I Think I Might've Inhaled You
by SordidDetailsFollowing
Summary: Peter has enough problems with high school, his internship, and his arachnid alter ego. Throw in a merc with a mouth covered in unfairly sexy red spandex, and things get a little crazy. Wade just wants to eat tacos, listen to bad tween pop music, and participate in some soft-core torture and murder. When a certain little spider swings into his life, things get complicated.
1. I Try to Imagine a Careless Life

**Peter**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter was having a bad day. A string of bad days, actually.

It had all started with the announcement of his upcoming chemistry test, which had caught Peter by surprise. Then there was the complication with the data he was analyzing for his internship at Oscorp, causing him hours upon hours of extra work. Then, of course, there were the beatings he had received the past two nights during patrol, leaving him black and blue and pained all over. (Apparently reciting chemistry formulas whilst fighting criminals isn't exactly conducive to harm-free and successful victories. But hey, Peter is still learning. He's only been a hero for like, six months. Cut him some slack.) And now there was the Harry problem.

"Come _on_ , Peter. What's the big deal? Why won't you let me do this for you?"

Peter groaned, letting his head fall face-first into the chemistry book lying open on the table in front of him. His glasses pressed into his nose, causing some discomfort, but Peter was too fed up with everything to care. "I can't even think about my birthday right now. And that's not even considering the fact that _I don't want a party_." The frustration was clear in his voice. After all, he'd already told Harry at least five times that he absolutely did not want him spending money on a party he neither needed nor wanted. And he was trying, unsuccessfully so far, to cram some last minute studying in before his test seventh period. Couldn't they just leave him alone for five measly minutes?

Of course not.

"Peter." Harry began again, ignoring the resulting groan of frustration as if he couldn't hear it over the clamoring noise of the cafeteria. "You're turning sixteen in two weeks. Only _two weeks_. That's hardly enough time to plan a proper celebration if you decide you want one."

Peter raised his head from his book and looked pointedly across the table at Harry, who was lounging in his little plastic chair as if he were sitting comfortably on a fancy leather couch, his near-black hair falling artfully across his forehead. "I won't want one. I promise. I swear on my test scores, which you know are very important to me." And with that not-so-subtle hint that he wanted to be left alone, Peter looked back down at his book and tried to refocus on electron deterioration.

He should have known that it wasn't going to be that easy.

"What if _we_ want a party? Your birthday might just be an excuse to throw one." MJ, always a fan of loopholes, pointed this out from her seat beside Peter, where she was sketching an admittedly beautiful rendition of Harry in her notebook. MJ was a good friend, she really was. And she was usually so good at knowing what Peter needed and doing her best to make it happen for him. So it was a bit surprising that she was currently making him want to throw his half-eaten lunch at her.

Peter heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair, probably making the unruly brown locks stick up in every direction even more than usual. "If you want to have a party on your own, you're more than welcome to. Get Britney Spears to come play. Buy strobe lights. Hire strippers for all I care. But you are _not_ spending that money for me. Besides, no one would want to come if you advertised it as Peter Parker's fucking birthday bash. I have exactly three friends, and two-thirds of them are sitting at this table trying to convince me to have a party _I don't want_." Peter glared across the table at Harry after his little rant. It had been his idea, after all, and it would be him who would cover the undoubtedly large bill that would result from such a party.

MJ and Harry were silent for a moment, and Peter almost thought he had gotten through to them, then Harry said, "Britney Spears? When did you travel back to 2001?" Peter just closed his eyes, the weight of the last few days suddenly feeling very heavy on his shoulders. He couldn't deal with this right now…

"Fine." He mumbled, unable to believe that he was about to give in to this ridiculous idea.

"What was that?" Harry sat up in his seat, and when Peter peeked at him from under his eyelashes he could tell from Harry's expression that he hadn't really expected him to grant his approval.

Peter groaned again. "I said fine." He snapped. "You can throw me a stupid party. But it can't be big, okay? And don't spend too much money." He knew Harry would probably ignore both requests, but he had to at least try. He hated it when Harry spent money on him. It didn't matter that Harry Osborn was a billionaire and Peter didn't have twenty dollars to his name. In fact, that was all the more reason why he hated it. He didn't like feeling like a charity case. "And now can I _please_ study in peace?" There were only eight minutes left of lunch and he needed every second if he wanted to have any chance of acing the test.

Harry was grinning, and MJ had a smug little smile on her face as she looked back at her drawing. "No problem, Petey. No problem," Harry said, leaning back in his chair again.

Peter just sighed and shook his head before making his best attempt at absorbing the information in his chemistry book via a combination of rushed reading and forced osmosis. The noise of the cafeteria made it difficult to concentrate, especially since Peter could hear every word that was spoken across the room and every clink of every piece of silverware against every plate. Thankfully, Peter had some practice tuning out the noise.

The rest of lunch was blessedly silent (at their table, anyway). MJ drew, Harry scrolled through something on his phone, and Peter studied. He felt like he was always studying. You know, when he wasn't working at Oscorp or swinging through the city in a kick-ass suit, fighting crime.

But, you know. That's life. Peter's life, anyway.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

He ended up doing alright on the test, so that was at least one thing off Peter's long list of lovely problems. He was talking through the answers with his friend Ned as they walked through the crowded hallway after the final bell of the day.

"Dude, it's so unfair. I studied for days. _Days_ and you forgot all about it until Monday and you still aced the test!" Ned was annoyed, as per usual, with Peter's ability to glide through school with minimal effort. Well, it didn't _feel_ like minimal effort.

"I crammed, Ned. And it was just lucky that I had gone over all the topics on the test. I mean, she could have put ionic compounds on there. I didn't study those at all." That wasn't exactly true, but he was trying to make Ned feel better.

"Whatever, dude. It's still unfair. I had no idea what to do on question nine. The one about covalent bonds? We didn't even go over it in class. And then she expects us…"

Peter had stopped listening. He felt a tingle crawling up his spine and forced himself to resist the urge to dodge out of the way or jump up and cling to the ceiling. He'd learned to control himself in school after his spidey sense resulted in a shockingly good performance during a game of dodge ball in gym a few months ago. It had taken weeks of acting clumsy and weak to convince his classmates that it had been a crazy fluke. So he forced himself to keep walking, cringing only slightly a second before a broad shoulder slammed into him, knocking him into the lockers.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there, Penis Parker." Flash Thompson sneered at Peter from the middle of the hallway.

"Not cool, man." Ned muttered, but he didn't dare to step in. Somehow, Flash had an uncanny ability to punch people in the face on school grounds and never get caught. It was actually very annoying.

"No problem, Flash." Peter responded, rubbing his shoulder as if it hurt and stepping in front of the lockers to hide the substantial dent he'd made in one of them. "I know it's hard to move in a coordinated manner when you're the size of an overgrown gorilla."

Flash scowled and stepped forward as if to hit Peter again, but Peter just ducked out of the way and started weaving through the crowd towards the exit, Ned trailing after him. God, what Peter wouldn't give to beat up Flash Thompson, just once… He could just imagine the asshole's face when he realized Peter was stronger and faster and a hell of a lot better at punching people than Flash was. But alas, it could never happen. Not unless Flash decided to rob a bank tonight while Peter was patrolling… But he wouldn't hold his breath.

He pushed through the front doors of Midtown High School and squinted into the sun, taking a breath of the warm spring air. As he started down the steps, Ned finally caught up to him.

"Dude, Flash sucks."

"Yup." That was the understatement of the year. Flash Thompson had made it his mission to torture Peter since the very first week he started at Midtown. Peter had been a freshman, nerdy and weak and easy prey. Flash, a sophomore jock at the time, needed someone to make his punching bag to support his fragile masculinity and reputation as a world-class jerk. It was a perfect combination.

Peter spotted Harry in the parking lot, leaning against the side of his ostentatious silver convertible, talking to some guy that Peter only knew by sight. He was going to walk the other way, just planning on catching a train over to Oscorp for his shift this afternoon, but Harry had keen eyesight.

"Peter!" He shouted, waving them over.

Peter sighed to himself but walked over, ignoring Ned's statement that "oh my god, Harry Osborn is so cool. Doesn't he just look so cool? I can't believe you're friends with him."

"Me neither." Peter muttered, coming up beside Harry's car as the guy he had been talking to walked away, shooting Peter and Ned a look that seemed to say 'why the fuck are you coming to talk to Harry?' Peter had gotten used to those looks since he and Harry became friends last summer.

"Need a ride?" Harry asked, casually tossing his car keys and catching them in one hand.

"No, that's okay. I'm just gonna take the subway." Peter said, eyeing the expensive car almost suspiciously. He'd ridden in Harry's car before, but it still felt weird. Too clean and nice and leathery.

Harry just rolled his eyes. "Get in, dork. We're going to the same place."

It was true. Peter worked at Oscorp four days a week and on three of those Harry worked there, too. Of course, they resided in very different departments. Peter was in the basement, mostly doing data analysis and cleaning the labs. Harry was on the top floor, meeting with executives and being groomed to someday take over the multi-billion dollar company. Peter took the subway to get to work and the bus to get home. Harry had his own reserved parking spot right next to the executive elevator. Peter turned to Ned. "What're you doing?" Sometimes they walked to the subway together.

"I have chess club." Ned reminded him. "See you later, dude. Have fun being a science nerd! Bye, Harry!" Ned waved at the older boy, who gave him a slightly confused look and didn't respond, before walking back towards the school.

Ned and Harry didn't really know each other. Like at all. Harry was a senior while Ned, Peter, and MJ were all sophomores. Ned and Peter had been friends since freshman year, bonding quickly over their nerd status and mutual love of science fiction. MJ and Peter had become friends fairly quickly, as well, although Peter had never really figured out how that had happened. MJ could be popular, if she wanted. She was beautiful and kind and talented. Everyone liked her. But for some reason she chose to hang out with two dorks who never would have dreamed of having a friend like her. And then there was Harry. Harry was so rich that he would have had no trouble making tons of friends even if he _wasn't_ strikingly handsome and smart to boot. But he was all of those things, and he still chose to befriend a wimpy kid who worked in the basement at his father's company.

Peter really didn't understand it, but he felt incredibly lucky to have all three of his friends. Even if they threw him unwanted parties and forced him to ride in expensive cars.

"Really, Harry, I don't mind taking the train. I can just - "

"Shut up, Peter." Harry said, but he was smiling as he walked around the car and opened the passenger door for Peter. "You're going to let me drive you or I really will book Britney Spears for your party."

Peter huffed out a sigh, but he got in anyway, setting his backpack carefully on the floor between his feet and snapping his seatbelt into place.

"We're picking up MJ from door five." Harry said as he slid into the driver's seat and started the car. It wasn't unusual for him to give MJ a ride after school. In Peter's opinion, it made much more sense for the two of them to be friends, even with the age difference. They were both beautiful, well-liked, and sociable people. Peter had expected them to eventually get together, but that hadn't happened yet despite them knowing each other for almost a year. They flirted sometimes, but nothing ever seemed to become of it.

"You wrapped up in that issue with the Gene X data?" Harry asked as they drove to the other side of the building. Peter wasn't surprised that Harry knew about that. Part of his responsibilities was to collect updates from the department heads and prepare reports for his father.

"Yeah." Peter sighed, looking out the window. "I've spent hours on it and I haven't been able to make heads or tails of what's wrong with it." It was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Don't worry." Harry said. "You'll figure it out. You're like the smartest person working down there."

Peter felt his cheeks grow slightly warm. "Yeah right." He muttered, but Harry's words brought a smile to his lips. He didn't know why Harry said stuff like that sometimes. Probably just to be nice.

They pulled up outside door five and almost immediately MJ appeared, her arms full of art supplies. Harry got out to open the car door for her, and she slid into the back seat, depositing her stuff beside her.

"Hey." She greeted them a bit breathlessly as Harry got back in his seat.

"Am I dropping you at the restaurant?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks." MJ's father owned a diner just a few blocks from Peter's building. They used to hang out there a lot, and the food was quite good. Peter wished he had more time to spend there, like he used to, but since he started his internship last summer and his, well, other extra-curricular activities (you know, fighting crime and saving lives) a few months ago, he hadn't been around much.

"Whatcha making?" Peter asked, twisting around in his seat to look at MJ's supplies while Harry pulled away from the school.

"Oh, just a project." She replied cryptically. Peter was used to her being kind of secretive with her art before it was finished. She didn't like people to see what she was doing until it was done. Peter understood that, and he didn't push any further.

They spent the ride to the restaurant chatting easily about school and complaining about the traffic. Peter always found himself surprised by how well the three of them got along. For the last few years of his life, before he met them, Peter had only thought of himself as a nerd. A science-obsessed kid who was bound to be a pariah in high school and locked in a lab somewhere for the rest of his life after that. But then came along MJ. And Harry. And Spider-Man. Everything had changed so quickly, and sometimes Peter was still left reeling at how his life had turned out.

He was thinking about that as they pulled away from the diner, MJ having already disappeared inside with her backpack and armful of art stuff.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Harry asked after a minute.

"Hm?" Peter tore his gaze from the window and looked over at his friend. "Make that a hundred dollars and I might tell you." He joked, smirking slightly.

"Okay." Harry said without missing a beat, taking one hand off the steering wheel and leaning forward to reach into his back pocket for his wallet.

Peter laughed. "No, no, stop that. I'll tell you. Free of charge." He took a moment to gather his thoughts, looking out the window again. "I was just thinking about how different my life is now. Since I started this internship at Oscorp. Since I met you and MJ. I never thought things would go so… _right_ for me."

Harry was silent, prompting Peter to turn back towards him and study his profile. He was staring intently at the cars in front of him, a serious but distant look in his clear blue eyes. When he saw Peter looking, however, he softened his expression and smiled. "I'm glad things are going right for you, Peter. You deserve it, you know."

Peter just shook his head slightly, bewildered. "I've always had such bad luck, but all of a sudden… I mean, this isn't luck. Not really. I have you to thank. Well, you and your father. And MJ. You're all so nice to me." Norman Osborne wasn't nice exactly, but he had given Peter this internship.

Harry shook his head, too, getting that frustrated look like he did sometimes when Peter gave voice to his confusion regarding their friendship. "Lighten up, Parker." It was clear he was trying to shift the conversation in a different direction. "You're not even sixteen yet. You need to get drunk a few times and crash a car. Then you can worry about your life path and all that shit."

Peter chuckled. "That sounds like you, Osborn. Not me." Harry smiled, and they began talking about the time Harry _did_ get drunk and drive one of his dad's cars into the Hudson River.

They arrived at Oscorp before long, driving up the parking structure in dizzying circles until they reached the top and pulled into Harry's spot, which was marked with a plaque and everything.

"Thanks for the ride." Peter said as he undid his belt and got out, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as he shut the car door carefully.

"Anytime, Petey." Harry got out and locked the car with a push of a button and a fancy little beep.

They walked to the elevator bank and Peter pressed the button to go down. They took different elevators, since the one that went to the top floor needed a key-card to use. It dinged almost immediately and the doors slid open, but before Peter could get on, Harry caught hold of his arm.

"Don't worry about the data issue, okay? No one expects the youngest employee in this whole company to solve all the problems." Harry smiled slightly as he reached up with his other hand and brushed a bit of hair out of Peter's eyes, his gaze growing distant. "Although I know you could." He let his hand drop away, but his grip on Peter's arm lingered for a moment before he let go. "See you, Parker." Harry turned away to scan his card for the other elevator.

Peter looked at him for a second, his face warm and his heart beating a little too fast. "Yeah… Bye, Harry." He turned and went into his normal-employees elevator, his mind struggling to catch up with his body. He stared at the buttons for a second before remembering which one to press, and the elevator doors slid closed with a soft whoosh. He breathed in, and out. Huh. Okay. That was new.

Harry was always nice to Peter. Too nice, really. And when he said things like that… Well, it confused Peter. Could you blame him? But he didn't have time to be confused right now. So he shook it off and refocused his attention on the task at hand as the elevator arrived at his floor. He had problems to solve. And he would solve them, even if he wasn't expected to. He just had to focus.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

At the end of another long day, Peter was preparing to go out. He hadn't made any breakthroughs at Oscorp, but he felt like he was getting closer to the answer after another three hours of data manipulation. He'd taken the bus home and had dinner with his Aunt May (spaghetti and meatballs, if you must know). They'd watched some sort of talent show competition on television, then Peter spent a couple of hours doing homework. He was in all advanced classes, so he'd only gotten a little over half his work done by the time he 'went to bed' at ten thirty. He usually crammed the rest of his homework in on the bus to school and at lunch.

It was currently ten forty-five and, after making sure Aunt May had retired to her room to read, Peter was quietly slipping into his super cool spider suit. He absolutely loved this thing. Mr. Stark had made it for him just five weeks ago, and he didn't even want to guess how much it cost.

But in Peter's opinion, it was worth every penny. Not only did he look totally badass in it, but it really did boost his crime-fighting abilities. The web-shooters operated extremely smoothly and held a lot more web fluid than his homemade ones. The material was flexible and breathable, somehow keeping him at the exact right temperature no matter how cold or hot it was outside. It was also fireproof and deflected most knives, although it did nothing to cushion punches or kicks, and it probably wasn't bullet proof (Peter hadn't tested that out and he had no intention of doing so). The mask's eye patches filtered light so he was never blinded and allowed him some pretty awesome night vision. His eyesight was already naturally improved, but even he couldn't see in total darkness without the aid of the suit.

And Peter knew that wasn't even the extent of what the suit could do. Mr. Stark had informed him that he would only be able to unlock the suit's full capabilities once he'd gotten more experienced at, you know, being a superhero.

Peter silently set his unneeded glasses on his desk and pulled the mask over his head. His vision instantly dimmed, but in a way that allowed him to see more details rather than less. He stepped over the pile of clothes on his bedroom floor to his sixth-floor window. He clung carefully to the glass and slid the window open, only a near-silent whooshing noise to mark the movement. Peter swung one leg out of the window, then the other, and he sat on the sill looking down over his narrow street in his own little corner of New York.

He took a deep breath, the cool night air almost tasting sweeter through his Spider-Man mask, and smiled. This was his favorite part.

He leaned forward, teetering on the edge of the windowsill, and fell. The air rushed around him for one glorious moment, then Peter shot a web at the building across the street and caught himself, swinging forward with dizzying momentum, letting go, falling, and shooting another web. It was like a roller coaster ride that never got old.

Peter waited until he was a few blocks away from his apartment building before he really let himself go. He swung between buildings, did flips in midair, vaulted over rooftops, and let out an occasional whoop of joy. He really, really loved being Spider-Man.

When he got to downtown Manhattan, he forced himself to slow down, stopping on a rooftop of some big bank to catch his breath. He went all over the city on his patrols, but it seemed like most of the crime occurred here in Manhattan, so he frequented the island over the other boroughs of New York. Peter sat down on the parapet of the roof and dangled his legs over the edge, looking out over the lit-up city. It still took his breath away sometimes, how beautiful it was.

After enjoying the view for a minute, Peter decided it was time to get down to work. He closed his eyes and started to listen. It was just a cacophony of sound at first, too jumbled to distinguish anything specific through the din of car horns and voices and movement. But the more he focused, the more he could hear. People laughing loudly as they walked down the street, a cabby yelling about the traffic, a couple fighting (it didn't sound violent), an umbrella salesman trying to sell his products to whoever passed by, a businessman talking angrily on the phone.

There… under all the rest, a voice. It was a woman, and she was definitely crying. "Please… please no, don't! I don't… Stop, please. No!" Peter shot to his feet, his mouth set in a grim line under his mask. He hated these situations. Why couldn't criminals just stick to robbing banks and stealing bicycles?

He leapt off the roof and let himself fall for a moment, then shot a web and started swinging towards the source of that voice. It was about three blocks away. He landed on the roof of an apartment building and crouched on the edge to look down into the alley below.

There was the woman, pressed up against the bricks, mascara tracks marring her tear-stained face. She was dressed in a little black dress and heels, but Peter (inexperienced as he was with these things) couldn't tell if she was a prostitute or just some girl trying to go out. It didn't matter. Either way, the man with a knife to her throat and his hand inside her dress was definitely deserving of some hard jail time.

Peter clung to the side of the building and crawled silently down the wall until he was perched behind the man. Neither of them noticed him. He cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, sir? Did you buy her dinner first? Because I think there's a bit of decorum that needs to be followed here."

The man whipped around, and the woman gasped. "What the fuck?" The man exclaimed, releasing the woman to point his knife at Peter.

"Hey now… that's just rude." Peter shot a web at the knife and yanked it away from the man. It clattered to the ground safely out of reach. "I was just trying to give you some friendly advice, y'know? And that's how you thank me?"

Maybe the man knew who Spider-Man was (he was gaining a bit of a reputation, after all), or maybe he was just freaked out about being caught and the fact that Peter was, you know, crouched on a wall. Whatever the reason, he chose to turn and run. They were so stupid when they tried to run.

"Not so fa-ast." Peter called out in a sing-song voice. He shot a web at the man's feet, causing him to trip and fall flat on his face with a surprised yell. "I'm not done talking to you. I think we need to have a little lesson on manners." He jumped from the wall and landed in a crouch beside the man, who was attempting to wriggle away using just his arms. "Lesson one." He stood up and aimed a kick (only with partial strength; he didn't want to kill the guy) at the man's stomach. "Assaulting people is _not_ cool."

The woman had been inching her way towards the alley exit, and at this point she took her chance to dodge past them and run out onto the main street. Peter let her go. He didn't want her to be any more traumatized than she already was, even if having her stick around would have been helpful for when the police showed up.

Peter got a couple more good kicks in, taking grim satisfaction from the grunts of pain he received in response. He hauled the man to his feet (he was actually a good few inches taller than Peter) and webbed him to the wall. He wouldn't be getting out of that anytime soon. He dug in the man's pocket for his cell phone, making a retching sound in the back of his throat as he did so, then dialed the police with it. He left the phone on the line and tucked it back in the man's pocket.

"When the police get here, you're going to tell them what you did, alright?" Peter patted the man roughly on the cheek, making sure he had his full attention as those wide eyes focused on his mask. "I'll be watching, understand? And if you don't tell them the truth… Well, let's just say I'll have a few more lessons to teach you." He waited until the man nodded his ascent, then turned and crawled back up to the roof of the apartment building, disappearing over the edge.

He waited around until the cops showed up about fifteen minutes later, and then listened in to make sure Mr. Rapist did as he was told. He did, thankfully. Peter hated it when he had to follow criminals around after the police left just to beat them up again. He didn't feel like it did any good. But he couldn't exactly go back on his word, now could he? He had a reputation to build and maintain.

He watched the police struggle to cut the man free of the webs. They handcuffed him and tucked him in to the police car, then they were gone. Peter allowed himself a small smile for a job well done. Things didn't always turn out this nicely.

Just two nights ago, for example, Peter had dropped into the middle of a pretty big drug deal and things got messier than he'd anticipated. There had been four more guys hidden away in the truck, and Peter ended up facing eight of them all at once. He got quite a few bruises from that fight, and his ribs had only just stopped aching a few hours ago. But all's well that ends well, right? He'd webbed those guys up good and as far as he knew, they were all safely in jail at the moment.

Peter stood up on the roof and took a deep breath, preparing to swing away to a higher vantage point to start listening again. Before he could move, however, he heard the unmistakable sound of a man screaming. And it was definitely close by.

He took a running start and leapt to the next roof. He ran about a block and a half across the tops of the buildings before he came to the right place, peering down into another dark alleyway.

The sight that greeted him was… unexpected. The man who had screamed was handcuffed to a dumpster. He was slumped down, clearly too weak to stand up fully, and was panting heavily, his eyes squinted in pain. His shirt was ripped open down the front and his chest, stomach, and face were littered with small, shallow cuts. He had what looked like a bullet wound in one of his legs.

Standing across from the tortured man, twirling a small knife dexterously between his fingers, was a hulking figure in a skin-tight red and black suit. He was masked, his eyes small white patches inside two large black pools. There were guns strapped to each of his hips and what looked like sword handles sticking up from his back. And it looked like he was… singing.

"I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums." He nodded his head and shifted his hips as if he were listening to some unheard music. "Oh what a shame that you came here with someone… So while you're here in my arms…"

The longer Peter looked, the more familiar this guy seemed. In fact, he was sure that he knew who this was. The name floated up from his subconscious: Deadpool. He didn't know much about him; just that he killed people for money and caused a lot of trouble for the Avengers.

Peter drew in a sharp breath as the knife flicked from Deadpool's hand and imbedded itself in the man's handcuffed arm. He let out a short, strangled yell, but Deadpool didn't flinch.

"Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young!" The masked man chuckled and sauntered forward as if he had all the time in the world. Peter could see the terror in his captive's eyes as he looked at Deadpool, and his stomach twisted in disgust. This was not a good guy. This was why he got into the hero business in the first place.

Peter didn't bother with crawling down the wall this time. He dropped straight from the roof, landing in a crouch behind Deadpool.

"Why do you guys always pick alleys? I mean, I dig the décor, but… A nice abandoned warehouse would be a nice change every once in a while."

Deadpool turned on his heel to face Peter. He let out a strangely feminine scream upon seeing him and clapped both hands to his cheeks, his mask's eyes somehow widening to complete his exaggeratedly surprised expression. "Oh no! A spider!"

Peter supposed he should be flattered that Deadpool at least recognized him, but somehow he wasn't sure that was such a good thing right now. He straightened out of his crouch and carefully placed his middle fingers on his web-shooters, ready to act on a moments notice. "Why don't you let our guest go, Deadpool? It looks like he's had enough of your company."

Deadpool stuck out his right hip and fanned at his face with one hand. If Peter could see through that mask, he was sure he'd see him batting his eyelashes. "Oh. Em. Gee. You know who I am! Well fuck me with a spoon and call me flattered, little spider!"

Before Peter could respond, Deadpool had drawn one of his guns and had it pointed straight at him. Peter made a noise in his throat that was part surprise and part disgust. That had happened fast… And he hated guns. Absolutely detested them ever since his uncle had been killed two years ago.

"What is it with you guys and your guns…" He muttered. He shot a web at the gun and jerked it from Deadpool's hand, just as he'd done with the man's knife earlier. He didn't wait for a response, but ran forward and leapt up, flipping over Deadpool to land beside his unfortunate prisoner.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna get you out of this." He told the man, reaching for his handcuffs.

All of a sudden his spidey sense shot sharp and alarming down his spine. He acted on instinct, leaping out of the way and clinging to the wall above the dumpster. A small throwing knife bounced off the metal dumpster right where he'd been standing a half-second ago, making a harsh clanging sound as it hit.

"I think a certain itsy bitsy spider should crawl back up the water spout." Deadpool warned, reaching back and drawing his swords with a chilling scraping sound. They looked pretty sharp.

Peter shot a web at Deadpool's face, blinding him. While the mercenary was busy clawing at the webs to try and get them off, Peter dropped back down to the man and got his hands on the cuffs. He gritted his teeth and pulled. The metal snapped under his fingers and the man was no longer chained. "Run. Go call the police." Peter ordered, helping the man to his feet and giving him a shove towards the alley exit.

Another intense tingle warned Peter to dodge out of the way as one definitely sharp blade swung past his head. "Not so fast, Casanova. Didn't we warn you not to run from us?" Peter watched Deadpool stick out one foot, tripping the man as he tried to get away and sending him sprawling with a groan.

Peter scowled under his mask, dodging another swing of Deadpool's sword and quickly webbing him around the middle. He pulled hard to send the larger fighter sprawling in the opposite direction. "Just let the poor guy go, Red. I think you've tortured him enough."

Deadpool laughed as he got to his feet, a slightly hysterical edge to the sound. "Of course he doesn't know… Well, we haven't told him, have we?" He approached Peter, swinging his swords (katanas, something in Peter's mind supplied) in wide, intimidating arcs. They circled each other slowly, Peter watching for an opportunity to get in under those blades and knock Deadpool down for good.

"We think you should know, itsy bitsy spider. That guy you're saving works for a human trafficking ring as big as Kim Kardashian's titties." Peter chose to ignore that strange analogy, glancing over to see that the man he'd freed had taken his chance and run. He was no longer in the alley with them.

"It does too make sense…" Peter frowned slightly as he looked back at Deadpool, just in time to dodge another swing of the katanas and leap up onto the wall out of Deadpool's reach. "Obviously I meant compared to other tits. You know, 'cause Kim Kardashian's tits are the biggest."

Peter had no idea what Deadpool was talking about now, but he took the opportunity to shoot another web at him, intending to pull him down again. But Deadpool _dodged_ the web with unexpected speed. "Hey, they are too! You take that back!" He swung again, lightning fast, and Peter just got out of the way, jumping higher up the wall. He felt a snag near his ankle and looked down to see a thin, inch long tear in his suit.

Peter gasped. "My suit!" He couldn't believe it. Anger and indignation swelled in Peter's chest and he found himself growling. "You are _so_ going to regret that." He shot a web at the top of the opposite building and swung out, both feet knocking into Deadpool's chest with enough force to dent a car.

The mercenary stumbled backwards, laughing as Peter landed on top of the dumpster. "Hell yeah he is! And that ass… Mm." He sheathed one of his katanas and pulled out another gun.

Peter grunted in frustration and jumped to the opposite wall, webbing the gun before it could be used and throwing it aside like the first one. "Who the fuck are you talking to?" He demanded, quickly growing tired of this bazaar fight he had found himself in.

Deadpool grew still, and looked up at Peter with his head tipped slightly to one side. He seemed to be listening to something. After a moment he said, "Just Ke$ha. I've got her on Bluetooth."

Peter scoffed out a laugh, his anger dissolving, but he kept his guard up, ready to dodge another attack or tie Deadpool down with his webs (if he could catch the fast bastard). "Fine. Tell her Spider-Man says hi."

Deadpool seemed to grin under his mask, and he sheathed his other katana, almost instantly relaxing into a more neutral stance. "Will do, buggy!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Spiders are arachnids. Not insects." That always got on his nerves. He glanced towards the entrance to the alley, wondering where that guy had run off to. "Was that man really working for a human trafficking ring?" He asked, surprised to find himself feeling slightly regretful about letting him go.

"Yup." Deadpool popped the 'p' obnoxiously and started swinging his arms back and forth, rocking up and down on his feet.

Peter frowned down at him. "And you were… trying to get information out of him?"

Deadpool laughed again. "Something like that."

Peter's frown deepened. "Look, Red. You can't just go around torturing people."

Deadpool stilled and looked down slightly. "Well he doesn't need to know that…" He muttered under his breath. Then, louder. "Yeah, sure, little spider. Whatever you say. Hey look. This has been fun and all, but I've gotta get going. Things to do, people to see, all that jazz." He turned and jogged towards the main street, leaning down to scoop up one of his guns on the way.

"Hey, wait!" Peter wasn't sure that he should just be letting this guy go. He'd definitely broken the law, and he was undoubtedly dangerous.

"Catcha later, Spidey-boy!" And then Deadpool was gone, disappeared around the corner.

Peter could chase after him, but he wasn't even totally sure that he'd be able to subdue Deadpool if he _did_ catch him, and that was a frightening realization.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Peter decided to let it go for now. If he ran into Deadpool again, well, maybe he'd try his hand at taking him down. But for now, he had had a long day and he was pretty tired. He crawled back up to the roof and looked out over the city one more time, scanning the streets for a certain red-clad figure, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

He swung home, enjoying the journey a little less than usual (although at least he wasn't returning home injured tonight). He landed on the side of his apartment building fifteen minutes later, crawled to his window, and carefully opened it as quietly as he could. He slipped into his room and listened for Aunt May. Her deep, even breaths from down the hall told him she was asleep, so he relaxed, falling onto his bed with a deep sigh.

He wriggled out of his suit and held it up to his face, looking for the tear that Deadpool had made. He found it on the back of the right leg and frowned, pinching the edges together as he thought about how to best stitch it back together. As he watched, the jagged edges seemed to cling together and reform into a solid piece of fabric once again. Peter gasped and ran his fingers over the area. It was perfectly smooth.

"Damn, this suit is cool…" He grinned. After tucking the suit away under his bed, he pulled out his laptop. He knew he should probably get to sleep, or at least finish his homework if he was going to stay up, but he was too curious. It took forever for his computer to boot up, and almost as long for the internet to start working (his laptop was more than a few years old). But that didn't keep him from his search.

Peter stayed up until almost three a.m. googling everything he could about Deadpool.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song credits:

Work Title:  
Bloodstream (Vampire Diaries Remix) - Stateless  
Chapter Title:  
Scenic World (Version) - Beirut  
Lyrics:  
Die Young - Ke$ha

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	2. Send Us a Blindfold, Send Us a Blade

**Wade**

[White]  
{Yellow}

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Damn, that boy was fine. I wonder how come we've never run into him before?" Wade slammed the door shut behind him and promptly flung himself down onto his ratty red velvet couch. He grunted slightly when he landed on his katanas, shifting onto his side so they were no longer digging into his back.

[We _have_ seen him before. On all those youtube videos, remember?]

{But that was weeks ago, before we left for Germany. He was still wearing that red and blue sweat-suit outfit like some dorky kid.}

"Yeah, and now he's sexy as fuck."

{Dat ass, tho… Mm.}

[Shut up, Yellow. You think every other ass you see is god's light shining from above.]

"Shining out of some guy's ass." Wade chimed in helpfully, and he and White cracked up.

{Hey… Not cool. We all like ass.}

[True.] White had to agree, despite his usual contrary attitude.

"Very true." Wade sighed and pulled himself up into a sitting position, glancing around his semi-trashed apartment. It was one of many he owned around the city. He'd gotten into a habit lately of letting his current safe house get completely filthy and unlivable before simply up and moving to a new one. He didn't have the time or the inclination to take care of his shit; he had too much money for that.

Wade stood and stretched his arms over his head, grinning briefly as his shoulders popped. That little spider had given him his first decent fight in weeks.

[Yeah, Germany was boring.]

{No it wasn't! We got to blow stuff up!}

[Sure, but where were the knives? The slicing? The pretty pretty blood?]

While the boxes were arguing, Wade walked over to his fridge and rifled around for something to eat. He settled on some three-day-old Chinese food, pulling one of the take-out cartons off the shelf and setting it on the counter.

{We do love blood… Especially on nice, smooth young skin.}

[Yes… So lovely. I can't believe the itsy spider took away our treat. And Casanova screamed so nicely for us...]

Wade pulled his mask off and tossed it aside, searching the kitchen drawers until he found a (maybe) clean fork. He grabbed the carton and started shoveling chicken fried rice into his mouth.

{Why did we settle on Casanova?}

[Cause he was a human trafficker.]

"It was supposed to be ironic."

[Ew. Don't talk with your mouth full.]

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want, White! You're not the boss of me."

{I totally forgot why we started torturing him in the first place.}

[I can be the boss of you if I want. Don't tempt me.]

Wade just rolled his eyes. He took the food back to the couch and grabbed his laptop off the coffee table, where it had been sitting in something sticky. Probably Mountain Dew. Maybe.

{But seriously. Did you see how cool Spidey looked dodging our katanas? Such grace. Such flexibility. Such raw sexual power.}

[We were all there, Yellow.]

Wade opened his internet browser and started humming under his breath as he navigated to youtube.

{Ooh! Yes yes! See if there's some newer footage of our little spider friend.}

[Is that Cascada? Seriously?]

{Cause every time we touch I get this feeling, and every time we kiss I swear I could fly. Can't you feel my heart beat fast, I want this to last, need you by my side!}

Wade stopped humming, not really in the mood for a sing-along. He'd found a video of "The Amazing Spider-Man" posted two weeks ago. It wasn't very good camera work, clearly filmed from someone's cellphone, but you could still see Spidey doing his thing. It looked like an apartment fire, and Spider-Man was swinging from window to window, carrying people down to safety.

{Ooh… Pretty fire…}

[Calm down, pyro. There aren't even any explosions.]

Even as White spoke, several of the windows on the upper levels of the building blew out in a huge rush of flame and smoke. Spider-Man seemed to lose his grip for a moment - perhaps his web had snapped - and he fell several feet before catching himself on the side of the building. Wade found himself smiling as he watched the little spider crawling along the wall.

{Spider-Man, Spider-Man. Does whatever a spider can.} Yellow sang a nice little tune.

"What the fuck was that? Did you just make that up?"

{No, it's Spider-Man's theme song!}

"He has a theme song?" Damn, this guy was on it. Wade should come up with a theme song for Deadpool. He could force all his victims to sing it.

{Has that not happened yet? Never mind. Wrong timeline. Or universe? I don't know.}

Wade watched the little blue and red figure in the video pull a few more people out of windows and then it was pretty much over. Spider-Man swung away and disappeared, and the rest of the video was just firemen shooting water at the building with their big phallic hoses.

{Aw… No one died. I don't like this movie.}

[It wasn't a movie, idiot.]

{I know! We should kill the itsy spider!}

[We could _try_ …]

{You don't think we could?}

"I don't know." Wade chimed in, his mouth full of food again. "He's pretty quick. I don't know if we could catch him."

{I think we should try. It'll be fun!}

[I'd like to see what's under that suit. I bet he would bleed so nicely for us...]

Wade had clicked on another video. This one showed Spider-Man handing a bicycle back to some kid. He waved at the camera before swinging away, and Wade smiled.

"Yeah, alright. We can go spider hunting tomorrow night."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It took Wade a few days to actually find Spider-Man. Admittedly, on the first two nights he got bored after an hour and just went to Sister Margaret's.

He talked shit with Weasel, the loveable yet utterly disgusting (Wade's favorite combination) bartender at the less-than-reputable establishment. He drank more than a couple bottles of liquor without getting the slightest bit buzzed. He got himself in a grand total of five bar fights (four of which he won, and the last only counted as loosing because he got one of his hands cut off - hey, they grow back). And he picked up a couple of easy hits. Overall, this was how Wade usually spent his time. When he wasn't in the midst of a torture-slash-murder spree or busy jacking off to porn of questionable taste, that is.

On the third night, he really got down to business. He ran all over the city, mostly on rooftops (because that's where spiders hung out, right?), keeping his eye out for a certain red and blue figure shining with the light of justice and goodness. No dice.

On the fourth night, Wade finally got lucky. He was wandering around the rooftops (as he was prone to do, now - he could feel a habit in the making), when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight. Wade always loved a good fight, so he made his way down the nearest fire escape and went to check it out.

Wade rounded a corner into the entrance of an alleyway and was met with a wonderful sight: Spider-Man was engaging five armed men in some truly inspiring violence while a richly dressed couple cowered in a corner.

[The little spider was right; why is it always alleys?]

{Maybe the writers aren't original enough to think of anything else.}

Wade crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall, smiling lightly as he settled in to watch the fight. Spider-Man's acrobatics were admittedly impressive. He dodged each thrust of the attackers' knives with apparent ease and shot webs with striking accuracy. Still, he was definitely outnumbered.

{Wow, look at the itsy spider move!}

[I hope he gets cut.]

{I don't. I want him fresh for us.}

Wade waited for a particularly inopportune moment, when Spider-Man was surrounded by four of the men, to make a loud catcall and raise his right hand in a wave. "Hey, hot stuff!" He called to Spidey, grinning as seven heads whipped around to face him.

{Seven?}

[One of the guys looks like he's unconscious. And there's the couple in the corner; they seem really stupid for sticking around.]

The fighting didn't pause for long. One of the men tried to take advantage of the spider's distraction and lunged at him. It didn't work. Spider-Man sprung into action with renewed vigor, flipping over the men and quickly webbing them up one by one.

As the tide turned, the would-be attackers seemed to realize they had lost. One of them turned and tried to run past Wade. Wade loved it when they ran. He drew one of his katanas and wound up to slice the guy cleanly in half, but something stopped him.

That something was a web. Wade let out a disgruntled "Hey!" as his second favorite blade was pulled out of his hands to skid unceremoniously across the ground.

[{Hey!}]

The runner didn't get away. A web to the feet brought him down hard and Wade was almost sure he heard the lovely sound of skull hitting pavement. And with that, it was over. All the baddies lay around in various forms of tied up, and Spider-Man turned to the stupid couple who still hadn't moved.

"You should go." He told them. "Call the police, tell them where these guys are. And next time, maybe don't take short cuts down dark alleys! I mean, have you watched a movie? Crime tv? You should get on that. Do some research."

Wade snorted out a laugh, Spidey's sense of humor catching him by surprise. As the couple rushed past him to get back to their well-lit boulevard of broken dreams, Wade slapped the guy playfully on the ass, eliciting a quiet yelp. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!" He sang after them.

[What was that? You call that clever?]

"Cleverer than you." Wade muttered. He turned to watch Spider-Man pulling the incapacitated men into a neat little pile in the middle of the alley. He webbed them up some more, clearly making sure that none of them would wriggle free before the cops arrived.

Wade stepped forward to retrieve his katana, but Spider-Man blocked him, planting his foot on the sword's handle so it couldn't be picked up. Wade cringed at the rough treatment.

"What the hell are you doing?" The spider asked.

Wade looked behind him, then looked back at Spidey. He pointed a finger at his own chest. "Who, little old me?" He grinned. "I'm spider hunting!" His grin widened as he noticed Spider-Man stiffen slightly.

"Yeah, see, I couldn't stop thinking about our little run-in the other night." Wade clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing leisurely around Spidey, getting closer with each pass. "I just can't seem to get it out of my head. It's like there are these voices constantly yammering on about the itsy bitsy spider and his legendary ass."

{Hey, that's us!}

"I mean, was it as good for you as it was for me? Because I don't want this to be a weird one-sided thing. Like, I'm some crazy obsessed stalker running around looking for you after just one night together. See, I was starting to think you were avoiding me, but now I - "

He was interrupted by a scoff. "Shut up, Deadpool." Spider-Man leaned down and picked up the katana by its handle, examining it for a moment. Wade stepped closer, getting a bit nervous.

"Careful with that…"

{If he hurts our baby, we'll kill him.} Yellow hissed.

[We're already planning on that, idiot.]

Spider-Man hesitated for a moment, then held the sword out for Wade to take back. He took it, giving the blade a quick once-over to make sure it wasn't scratched at all. It looked alright, but he'd be giving it a more thorough examination later. With a soft grunt of acceptance, Wade slid the katana back into its sheath.

"You can't just go killing people." Spider-Man stated, his voice heavy with disapproval. He even looked disapproving, standing there with his hands on his hips. It was adorable.

Wade chuckled, drew a gun from his hip holster and started spinning it around on his finger. "Baby, that's what I do."

{Yeah, baby. You tell him.}

"Besides; I was just trying to help! It looked like you had your hands full. Er, webs. Your webs were full. You know."

[Smooth.]

"I was handling it just fine, thank you very much. I took care of it myself, see?" Spider-Man gestured behind him at the impressive collection of bound criminals.

"Yes, I see that. You got 'em webbed up nice and good there. Is this the part where you eat them?"

Wade could almost see Spidey's nose wrinkling under his mask. "Ew. Of course not." He seemed to go still for a moment, as if he were considering something. Then, slowly, "Do _you_ eat people?"

Wade burst out laughing, bending over almost double and clutching at his stomach with his gun-free hand. "Oh, that's good… Ha, yeah… No, could you imagine? I'm batshit crazy, but no… No, I don't do that."

{Why _don't_ we eat people?}

[They probably wouldn't taste very good.]

{How would we know unless we tried?}

Wade shook his head, his laughter fading. "No fucking way. We are not trying that."

Spider-Man's head turned sharply to the left, catching Wade's attention. He seemed to be listening to something. A moment later, Wade could hear sirens in the distance.

"That's my cue. Try to stay out of trouble, Red. Watch some afterschool specials. Learn something." And with that, the spider had turned away and was already climbing the side of a building, heading up to the rooftop, no doubt.

Wade watched him with a goofy smile for a moment before following. He moved to the same building, tucking his gun into its holster as he did, and jumped up to grab the edge of the fire escape, easily pulling himself up and over the railing.

[You think he's funny.] White accused as Wade started climbing.

{I think he's funny, too!} Yellow said cheerfully.

[But you won't hesitate to torture and kill him just because you're developing a little crush.] White retorted.

"I am _not_ developing a crush." Wade growled indignantly.

{Ooh, we haven't liked someone in ages!}

[That's not the point.]

Wade reached the top of the building and silently stepped out onto the roof, quickly scanning the area for Spider-Man. He spotted him crouched at the edge, his back to Wade.

[Now's our chance.]

{Catch him and make him bleed!}

[Shoot him from here. That should incapacitate him enough to take him somewhere more comfortable.]

{Less comfortable!} Yellow's voice was filled with glee.

Wade crept forward on silent feet, his fingers inching closer to his gun.

{I can't wait! I can't wait to hear him scream.}

[Now. Shoot him now before he hears you.]

Wade's fingers wrapped around the handle of his pistol, but he continued to inch forward.

"Get down, out of sight."

Wade froze, shocked by the sound of Spidey's quiet, commanding voice.

{How did he knew we were here?} Yellow whined in disappointment.

After a beat, Wade obeyed. He dropped to his stomach and crawled forwards until he was laying next to Spider-Man, peering over the edge of the roof. All five bad guys were still tied up below, and the sirens were much closer now.

"Aw, you're waiting to make sure they get picked up okay? That's so sweet," Wade said cheerfully.

Spider-Man huffed out a sigh. "Keep your voice down, Deadpool."

Wade smirked beneath his mask. "Oh, Spidey. I love it when you say my name."

[I'd rather he were screaming it.] White muttered venomously.

Wade chuckled, and answered under his breath. "Aw, White… I thought you _didn't_ want to have sex with him."

The silence he got in return was ice cold.

As they watched, two police cars pulled up at the alley entrance and the cops filed out to retrieve their cargo. Once all five men had been cut free, cuffed, tucked into the cars, and driven away, Spider-Man stood back up.

Wade followed, bouncing up and down slightly on his toes as he looked sideways at Spidey. "So…. Wanna get something to eat?"

{What?!}

"What?"

[What.]

Wow. Unanimous reaction there. "Don't spiders have to eat? Or do you only eat bugs, or something?"

"Gross. I eat _normal food_ ," Spider-Man told him emphatically.

"Great! So…?"

Spider-Man hesitated, glancing away as he seemed to think it over.

[This is a bad idea.]

{Why? I'm kind of hungry.}

[Wade's going to get attached. Then he's not going to want to move forward with the blood and the screaming and the little bits of spider all over the walls.]

{Oh.}

Wade did his best to ignore the boxes. "My treat!" He offered, trying to sweeten the deal.

That seemed to do the trick. Spidey relaxed slightly and finally offered a shrug. "I guess that'd be okay."

"Wonderful. Luke-warm acceptances are the best. So encouraging! So what should we have, Spidey-boy? Oh, I know this great place just a couple blocks away! They make the best tacos."

{Oh my god tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos}

[Shut. Up.]

{tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos tacos}

[SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP]

Wade turned his head to the side and hissed at the boxes, "Both of you shut the fuck up! I'm trying to have a conversation here."

{Wow. Rude.}

[We don't appreciate that sort of language, young man.]

{Old man.}

[Old man. I think you need to learn some respect.]

"No." Wade growled. "Don't you dare-"

It was too late. Both boxes started screaming at the top of their lungs.

[{CAUSE YOU'RE HOT THEN YOU'RE COLD, YOU'RE YES THEN YOU'RE NO, YOU'RE IN THEN YOU'RE OUT, YOU'RE UP THEN YOU'RE DOWN, YOU'RE WRONG WHEN IT'S RIGHT, IT'S BLACK AND IT'S WHITE}]

Wade clutched at his head and groaned.

[{WE FIGHT WE BREAK UP, WE KISS WE MAKE UP. YOU DON'T REALLY WANT - }]

Suddenly, a soft touch on Wade's arm made him jump. It startled the boxes right out of their torture singing, too. He turned back to see Spider-Man standing beside him, his arm outstretched, his fingers just inches from Wade's arm before he let his hand fall back to his side.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Wade just stared at him, shocked.

[He touched us.]

{ohmygod he touched us!}

It was a few seconds before Wade could formulate an answer. "Yeah. Yep, sure. I'm just dandy! How are you?"

Spider-Man seemed confused, even through the mask.

Wade sighed. "Just the voices in my head giving me a hard time. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about." He tried to brush it off, but as he waited for Spidey's response, his stomach twisted anxiously. It was no secret that Deadpool was insane. Spider-Man would probably want to give him a wide berth now that it was clear just how fucked in the head he actually was.

But Spider-Man showed no reaction to that confession other than a slight tilt of the head. "Alright." He seemed to accept that easily enough. "So… tacos?"

{I like him. I like the little spider. Let's keep him.}

[Oh no… Not you, too.]

Wade's mouth slowly curled into a grin. "I will never answer no to that question." He started bouncing up and down on his toes again. "Hey, I know. You stay here, I'll go grab the food. Cause one incredibly sexy guy covered in red spandex is probably less conspicuous than two."

Spider-Man chuckled. "Yeah, alright. I'll wait here."

"Okay!" Wade started backing towards the fire escape. "I'll be back before you can say 'Willem Dafoe's giant eagle dick' five times fast.'"

{We're not that fast.}

[Why would he ever say that?]

"Don't go anywhere, Spidey. You'll break my fragile heart!" Wade turned and jumped onto the fire escape, sliding down the outside of one of the railings rather than running down all the stairs. He would have just jumped straight off the roof, but he wouldn't be as fast if he had to limp to the taco stand on two broken legs.

[He's gonna be gone when we get back.]

White started in as soon as Wade hit the ground, but he tried to ignore it, jogging towards his third-favorite taco stand (he was pretty sure he'd been to every single one in New York, so that was a pretty good rating).

{Naw… Spidey wouldn't do that to us. He's good and kind.}

[And we're bloodthirsty murderers. Why would he ever want to hang out with us?]

White had a point there. Wade picked up the pace, reasoning that if he got back quickly enough, Spider-Man wouldn't have a chance to realize how stupid it was to agree to a dinner-date with Deadpool.

{Oh em gee, you think this is a date?}

[Of course not. He wouldn't be that stupid.]

"Of course it's not a _date_ date." Wade huffed. "It's just an expression."

{Aw, I think it would be nice to date Spidey. Can you imagine how flexible he'd be in bed?}

[He'd never date us. Have you _seen_ us?]

White was right, of course. Spider-Man was clearly stunning in the looks department, even if Wade couldn't see his face. He, on the other hand, was probably the ugliest pile of shit in New York.

{Well, we could just kidnap him and then fuck him!}

"Ew. God, Yellow. No fucking way. We're not rapists." Wade's face twisted in disgust just at the thought of that. He killed rapists. Preferably after cutting off their balls.

Even White had to agree with that, and Yellow was quickly scolded into submission.

When Wade finally reached the taco stand, he realized he had no idea what Spider-Man liked. So he ordered three of everything. And five chimichangas. In case Spidey wanted one.

The whole way back, Wade's stomach was in knots. By the time the building was in view, White had successfully convinced him that the roof would be empty when he got back up there.

He climbed the fire escape anyway, the going a bit slow since both of his hands were weighed down with bags full of Mexican food. He took a deep breath as he passed the top floor, preparing himself for disappointment.

{Don't worry. If he's gone, we'll just hunt him down again. And then we can do the whole killing thing. That'll make you feel better!}

Yellow's words of comfort weren't all that comforting. When Wade stepped onto the roof, his eyes skimming over to where he'd left Spider-Man, his stomach sank.

[See? I told you. No one would stick around for us. Especially not a hot piece of ass with a trumped-up sense of morality like the spider.]

{No, no! Look! Over there!}

Wade glanced towards the other side of the roof, and there was Spidey, sitting on the edge, his feet dangling over the street below. Wade felt a smile spread over his face, and the rock in his stomach was replaced with a strange sort of warmth.

{See, White? You were wrong for once. What do you have to say for yourself?}

The silence said enough.

Wade walked over and plopped down beside Spider-Man, dangling his legs over the edge, too. "Here." He said, placing one of the heavy bags in Spidey's lap.

"What did you do, order everything on the menu?" He asked in disbelief.

Wade grinned. "Three of everything, actually." He pulled a chimichanga out of his bag and set the rest between them. "I didn't know what you wanted, so…"

Spider-Man laughed, and Wade felt warm all over. "I'm really not that picky. I would've eaten anything." He pulled a taco out and eagerly unwrapped it, pausing only to roll his mask up over his mouth before he took a bite.

Wade stared, his eyes glued to that strip of smooth, perfect skin. Spidey's jaw was angular in a boyish, sexy way, and the slope of his neck, the curve of his lips, they were almost pornographic.

[Oh, great… We're in trouble now.]

"Shut up." Wade breathed, tearing his eyes away.

"Hm?" Spider-Man turned to look at him, the taco already half-gone. It was like he was starving or something.

Wade just shook his head. "Nothing."

[What do you think is gonna happen when you lift your mask and he sees the catastrophic mess that is your face?]

Wade swallowed thickly and glanced around. He shifted away from the edge of the roof, resting his back against an air vent a couple of feet away. The shadow of the vent fell across his face, and he was relatively sure that Spider-Man wouldn't be able to see him. He carefully lifted his mask the minimal amount needed and unwrapped his food, licking his lips nervously.

Spidey was already digging in the bag for something else by the time Wade took his first bite.

"You afraid of heights?" The spider asked as he unwrapped a burrito.

Wade shrugged, swallowing his food before answering. "Sometimes, I guess." It seemed like a good enough excuse for now.

[You can't hide forever.]

{Oh, shut up. You're just bitter because you were wrong.}

Wade decided to change the subject, try to keep Spidey distracted while he ate. "So where'd you get your kick-ass new suit? It makes your pert little ass look wonderful, by the way. Much better than those silly sweatpants you were wearing before."

Spidey chuckled, but Wade could see the top of his neck growing slightly pink. "Well… Tony Stark made it for me, actually."

{Yuck. That pretentious asshat eats dicks for breakfast.}

[What the fuck are you talking about?]

{Well, he does…}

Wade whistled. "Wow, the Tin Man? That's some serious shit. Very impressive, Spidey."

Spider-Man shrugged, but Wade could tell he was pleased with the compliment. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why he did it. I mean, this thing must be worth at least a million dollars. It's fucking awesome, really." He started kicking his feet over the open air, clearly eager to talk about his suit. "It regulates temperature somehow, probably through aerodynamic regulation of the fabric tension. And the eye lenses are filtered, so I'm never blinded. I even have night vision! And the web shooters are great. I can tell by examining them that they can switch to different functions, but I don't have access to that, yet. Mr. Stark said-"

Spider-Man suddenly cut himself off, as if realizing that he probably shouldn't be telling Deadpool all of that stuff.

Wade tried to smooth over the moment so things didn't grow awkward. "That's pretty badass. I wish my suit could do all that, but this baby is home-made."

"You made that?" Spider-Man turned to look at him, and Wade regretted pulling the attention to himself. He quickly rolled his mask down to cover his mouth, glad that he'd practically inhaled the chimichanga with his usual speed. He could eat more later.

"Yep. And believe me, it did not look this hot the first few times I tried. This level of skin-tight sexiness took quite a bit of trial and error."

{Remember all the times we stabbed ourselves with those tiny little needles?}

[Yeah, before this dumbass realized he should buy a sewing machine.]

Spider-Man was silent for a moment, looking Wade over. "I like it," He finally said, and Wade could see his beautiful skin gaining color again.

He grinned, scooting back to the edge and dangling his legs over once more. "Thanks, sweet-cheeks."

Spidey turned away, the color on his jaw darkening, and Wade's grin widened. "So what turned you on to the crime-fighting business, little spider?"

Spidey shrugged and took another bite of his burrito, as if chewing would give him more time to think of an answer. Wade hummed under his breath while he waited.

{Can't read my- Can't read my- No you can't read my poker face.}

[Why is our music taste such complete trash?]

{Hey. You can _not_ bash the illustrious Lady Gaga.}

"She is pretty fierce."

"Huh?" Spider-Man was looking at him quizzically.

Wade shook his head. "Nothing, Spidey."

Spider-Man finished chewing his bite. "Well… To answer your question, I guess it just seemed logical. I mean, I didn't always have these abilities. I just got them a few months ago, actually, and this seemed like the best thing to use them for."

Wade nodded, although he could definitely think of lots of other ways to use those powers. Spidey would make a kickass mercenary, for example.

"How did you get into the… killing people business?" Wade could see Spider-Man's mouth twist in distaste, and he let out a hollow laugh.

"Oh, same reason pretty much. It just seemed logical."

{Plus we love killing.}

[And cutting.]

{And burning.}

[Slicing.]

{Shooting.}

[Blood.]

{Guts.}

[{Screams.}]

Wade shook his head, trying to ignore the bloodthirsty voices. "I figured there are a lot of shitty people in the world, and the world could use fewer of those. So I do what I can to help control that particular population."

Spider-Man was looking at him with interest again. "You only kill bad people?"

Wade shrugged. "Usually. Although I don't always check that carefully."

Spidey looked out over the street again, seemingly lost in thought for a minute. Suddenly, he stiffened. "What time is it?"

Wade turned his arm to look at the Hello Kitty watch strapped to his wrist, on top of the suit. "Uh… Almost two a.m. Why?"

Spider-Man dropped his half-eaten burrito back in the bag and stood up in a flash. "I gotta go." He blurted out.

[You scared him off.]

"What, you got school in the morning?" Wade chuckled.

"I just… I have to go. It's later than I realized."

Wade stood up, too, his right hand coming to rest unconsciously on the handle of the gun on his hip. "Right… Okay. Well, swing safe, I guess."

Spider-Man looked at him, rolling the bottom of his mask back over his mouth, hiding that sweet skin again. "Sure." He stepped to the edge of the roof, but hesitated, still looking at Wade. "Thanks for the food. I'll… See you around, Deadpool."

And with that, he stepped over the edge and fell out of sight. Wade hurried forward to peer down towards the street, only see Spidey swinging away on his webs, his body bending in the most delicious ways.

{He said he'll see us around!} Yellow squealed.

[He was probably just trying to be nice.]

{Oh, shut up. You're just a sour puss.}

[You're just an imbecile.]

For once, the boxes' arguing did nothing to dampen Wade's mood. He stared after Spider-Man even after the hero had disappeared around a corner, a grin lingering on his scarred lips.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wade spent the next couple of days practically walking on air. He was so upbeat, in fact, that Weasel was utterly convinced that he'd started taking ecstasy. Wade reminded him that his healing factor made it nigh on impossible to get high or drunk. He even demonstrated by chugging an entire bottle of vodka. Weasel remained suspicious.

He went out every night and wandered the city, keeping an eye out for a certain red and blue spider. He gave massive tips to the guys who delivered his usual greasy take-out, skipped through Times Square (even stopping to take pictures with clueless tourists), and serenaded his victims. He was probably scaring them more with the euphoric singing than he usually did with threats and torture.

But it didn't last.

[I told you it wouldn't.]

After five nights with no sign of the slippery spider, Wade's mood had dramatically soured.

[He's avoiding you.]

"You think I don't know that?"

{He might just be busy!}

[Busy avoiding us.]

"Busy spinning webs to catch more hapless mercenaries. Stupid, sticky, sexy webs." Wade stopped to kick a car, trying his hardest to put a dent in its glossy black exterior. He only succeeded in fracturing some bones in his foot.

"Hey!" Exclaimed a woman dressed in Prada and carrying a Gucci purse. Wade was currently strolling down fifth avenue at ten-thirty at night. He'd been out for an hour, looking for the spider, and his dark mood was spreading.

"Oh, go fuck yourself." Wade responded bitterly, kicking the car again just for good measure.

"I'll fucking sue you, freak!"

Wade pulled one of his guns and had it pressed against the woman's jaw in an instant. "Try it." He growled.

She went stiff with a terrified squeak, and scrambled for her purse. "H-Here. Here, take it. Take the car. Take it all."

Wade rolled his eyes, dropping the gun to his side and whirling around to face the crowded sidewalk. A few people were staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. He wasn't exactly inconspicuous, walking through the middle of the shopping district dressed in bright red spandex and talking to himself.

"What the fuck are you looking it?" He snapped, waving his gun. The people ran away. He snorted, tucking the pistol away and continuing down the street. "People." He muttered.

[Why don't we go on a job? That always cheers you up.]

{Yeah! We can take our time. Do a little slicing before the dicing.}

Wade heaved a sigh, but decided that it was probably best to take out his frustration in a constructive way rather than attacking cars on the street. "Yeah, alright." He conceded. "Let's go kill someone."

The shoppers on the sidewalk were giving him a wide berth.

Wade called Weasel and got a name. He was familiar with the person already, a drug kingpin who worked the lower east side, so he didn't need to go home and perform his usual research. It probably would have been helpful for him to prepare a bit, maybe get the details about recent activity or security concerns. But he was feeling reckless and he knew where to look, so he went off full tilt.

It was hard to care about preparation when you couldn't die.

So when Wade showed up at the abandoned warehouse where he knew they packaged the cocaine, he didn't hesitate or stop to check things out before letting himself in through the front doors with a cheerful "Honey, I'm home!"

{Hey, a warehouse! What a nice change. The writers must have really wracked their brains for this one.}

[Ha ha. Your sarcasm is beyond reproof.]

Wade strode in, guns drawn, but came to a halt in the middle of the showroom floor. It was empty. Utterly empty of people.

Not empty of cocaine. Boxes were stacked along the walls, some of them open and half-packed with neat little bundles of white powder. Tables were lined up in the middle of the room, scales set up, some still tipped by piles of snow. Packages lay half-assembled. Workstations lay abandoned.

"Huh. Well this is a pickle."

{Where are all our toys?} Yellow whined.

[Something made them leave in a hurry.]

Wade tipped his head to one side, listening. He could make out the faint sounds of yelling. And fighting. "Looks like we've got competition."

{Let's kill them! Let's kill them!}

Wade made his way to the back of the warehouse and peered out the window. There was a parking lot in the back, and it was currently a flurry of activity.

[Oh no.]

{Our spider!}

It was, indeed, Spider-Man. He spun in the middle of it all, kicking and punching and webbing. He was taking hits every now and then, but he never let it break his stride. It was quite beautiful.

Except for the fact that he was hopelessly outnumbered and would probably be full of bullet holes soon, judging from the size of the semi-automatic assault rifles that were being handed out on the sidelines.

"Guess we better get down to business." Wade muttered. He re-holstered one of his guns and pulled a grenade out of the grenade pouch on his utility belt. It was always best to make a grand entrance, he found.

Wade moved to the back door and kicked it open. He fired six shots in quick succession, taking out the nearest men, then pulled the pin from the grenade.

"Bombs away, ladies and gentlemen!" He made sure to aim his toss so the grenade would detonate far enough away from Spider-Man not to cause him any real damage.

{God, I love it when they scream.}

[Would you look at all that blood? Beautiful.]

Wade went to work, his ears ringing from the blast. He drew two more guns and took out all the men he could see holding rifles. The attention was shifting to him now, just as he'd intended, and Wade dropped the guns to draw his katanas as a group of cocaine-pushers rushed him.

Wade moved with surprising grace, spinning and slicing, almost as fast as Spider-Man moved. It was cathartic, painting the pavement with blood. Before he knew it, everyone in a ten-foot radius was dead or dying.

{Aw… There's never enough to keep us busy.}

[There's more over there with the spider.]

Spidey was faring better now, facing about ten of them instead of fifty. He'd webbed a few already and they lay scattered about like wriggling caterpillars stuck in their cocoons. Wade made his way over, grinning beneath his mask.

"Hey, Spidey! Caught too many bugs in your web, this time?" He greeted when he was within hearing distance. One of the men broke away and came for Deadpool with a knife. It was laughable. Wade raised his katanas, ready to slice the guy in half, but Spider-Man webbed the stupid criminal and pulled him out of the way.

{Hey. Not cool.}

"Don't kill them." He scolded, sounding a bit out of breath. He leaped out of the way of another attack only to be punched in the ribs when he landed. The one who got in the lucky hit was on the ground in less than a second.

Wade frowned slightly. "I'm just trying to help, little spider. It looked like you needed it."

He didn't receive a response; Spidey was too busy trying to web the last few guys.

[Ungrateful little bug. We should teach him some manners.]

{Hey, look! Isn't that our guy?}

Wade glanced over to spot his target, the organizer of this whole operation. He was peering out from behind a car, his face a mask of rage, and that rage was focused on Spider-Man.

Wade smirked, sheathing his katanas and pulling a throwing knife from his belt. "Well, well, well. It looks like we'll be collecting our reward after all."

Then he saw the gun. The gun pointed at Spider-Man.

His smirk fell away, his eyes narrowing slightly. "No fucking way." He growled. He stepped in front of Spidey, the knife leaving his fingers just as a shot rang out through the night air.

Darkness washed over his vision, sudden and harsh like an ocean wave.

[Oh no, not again.] White's voice faded into the distance, washed away like everything else.

Yes, again.

For a while, there was nothing. That was the worst part. Just a void, never-ending.

Then, slowly, as if coming from a great distance, music faded in. The volume grew until it was all consuming, the bass and the synths vibrating through the emptiness of Wade's skull.

It was Katy Perry singing Hot N Cold.

 _Jesus fuck not this shit again_ …

There was nothing he could do about it. Suddenly, a cartoon unicorn sprang into existence. It galloped around, daisies and ice-cream and other obnoxious little cartoon items springing up behind it. It was joined by some regular horses, who seemed jealous of its luscious pink mane. The regular horses attacked the unicorn, tearing it to pieces and eating it.

[Wow. That's fucked up.]

{Hey, we're back!}

"Great… That's just great." Wade groaned. Head shots were the worst.

The real world was slowly returning, darkness and the smell of blood and burnt flesh filtering in as the music faded.

He forced his eyes open, blinking a few times to bring the world into focus. He was quite confused to see Spider-Man's masked face looming over him.

Yellow gasped. {Have we died and gone to heaven?}

Wade flushed with warmth when he realized his head was lying in Spidey's lap. He could feel warm hands cradling his neck and the back of his head, holding him there.

Wade shot up into a sitting position, running his fingers over his face to make sure his mask was still in place. He breathed a sigh of relief to feel that it was.

"What the fuck?" Spidey's voice was high and anxious.

Wade glanced around to see that all the men were now either dead or webbed into immobility. He looked back at Spider-Man, keeping his mask expression neutral.

"Hey, Spidey-Boy."

"You… You were dead!"

"Yep. That happens sometimes."

Spider-Man moved onto his knees and reached for Wade's face, taking hold before Wade could move away. He turned his head from side to side, as if looking for the bullet hole. "But… How?"

Wade pulled away, worried that the hole left in his mask would be large enough to see through. "Healing factor, sweet-cheeks. It's kind of, like, unbeatable. You could cut me into lots of little pieces right now and I'd still come back! I'm like that scary monster in Greek mythology. What's it called? That one with all the heads. You cut one off and like ten grow back. That's basically me." He was babbling, but it was just because the way Spidey was looking at him was giving him chills.

{Remember that time we jumped out of an airplane?}

[We've done that twice.]

{Oh yeah. Remember that time we drank the Joker's special acid?}

[We never did that.]

{Oh… Wrong universe.}

"That's amazing." Spidey breathed, still staring.

Wade shifted uncomfortably under the spider's gaze. "Aw, Spidey… Were you worried about me?"

Spider-Man was silent for a moment before getting to his feet. He pressed one hand to his ribs as he rose, seeming careful not to move too quickly. "Why did you do that?" He asked, his voice a mix of indignant, concerned and confused.

"Cause you were about to be shot." Wade stood up as well, glancing over to see his target slumped against the car he'd been hiding behind, Wade's throwing knife protruding from his neck. "And I can't die." He shrugged. "Seemed logical."

Spider-Man was quiet, and staring again. Wade swallowed and shifted his feet.

"I can dodge bullets." He finally said. "So don't do that again, okay? You don't need to get shot for me."

Now it was Wade's turn to stare. "You can _dodge bullets_?"

{Okay. That's fucking cool. How come we can't do that?}

Spider-Man nodded slightly. "Not because I'm that fast. I have… Well, I have a kind of… spider sense." He seemed embarrassed to call it that. "It warns me when I'm in danger. And I can move out of the way. It's a kind of instinct, I guess."

Wade let out a low whistle, planting his hands on his hips. "Hot stuff, Spidey-Boy. I guess you would've been fine on your own, then."

Spider-Man glanced around, and Wade could tell he was looking disapprovingly on the mess that Deadpool had made.

"Actually, I was kind of in over my head here." He admitted quietly.

Wade chuckled. "Oh, really? I couldn't tell."

Spidey chuckled, too, and Wade felt warm.

Spider-Man went still, listening to something. "We should go." He said. "The police are coming."

Wade nodded. "Yeah, alright." He reached back to make sure his katanas were safely in place. He could always get more guns and knives, but these babies were one of a kind.

Spider-Man gave him one last lingering look, freezing Wade in his spot. "See you, Deadpool. Try not to die too much."

"Will do, little spider." He raised one hand in farewell, watching Spidey shoot a web to the neighboring building and swing away.

{Okay. This is weird. How come I want to fuck him more than I want to cut him?}

[Because you're an idiot.]

"Shut up, White."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song credits:

Title:  
Blindness - Metric  
Lyrics:  
Everytime We Touch - Cascada  
Spider Man - The Greatest Ever Cartoon Television Themes  
Hot N Cold - Katy Perry  
Poker Face - Lady Gaga

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	3. Never Sleep, Remember to Breathe Deep

**Peter**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The sound of Peter's alarm was the last thing he wanted to hear at six in the how-can-you-call-this-morning. It took all of his considerable self-control to stop himself from hurling the cheap clock across the room and shattering it into a million pieces. Instead, he blindly pressed the off button and forced himself to sit up, moving like a zombie with his eyes still closed. He swung his feet out over the edge of the bed and groaned as he stood, aching and cold and more exhausted than when he went to sleep three hours ago.

The last two weeks had passed in a blur for Peter. He'd been busy at Oscorp and as Spider-Man, and most nights he was only getting four hours of sleep or less. As much as he hated to admit it, Peter was still a growing boy who needed his rest, and he was starting to get a little ragged around the edges.

The most confusing part of his past two weeks was, without a doubt, his run-ins with a certain red-clad mercenary. Peter's internet research had revealed a lot about Deadpool. He had a reputation as an insane, skilled, and disturbingly creative killer. He supposedly became Deadpool when he took part in some sort of initiative to create mutants. There weren't a lot of details about what exactly happened, and none about who Deadpool was before this incident, but some websites claimed that he had been in some sort of accident, and that was what triggered his mutation. A couple of sites also speculated that this accident had left him disfigured in some way and shook some screws loose in his already off-kilter head. It was rumored that he had healing abilities so powerful that he couldn't die, but Peter had been doubtful of that until he'd actually seen those powers in action.

He'd been shocked that Deadpool would put himself in harms way for Spider-Man, even if he knew he wouldn't die. Not permanently, anyway. To be honest, he was still having a lot of trouble wrapping his mind around it. And he felt guilty, even if Deadpool had come back to life and didn't seem any worse for wear. Peter could have avoided that bullet, but Deadpool couldn't.

Admittedly, Peter had needed help. He'd been in way over his head at that warehouse, and he knew it had been a mistake to go there by himself. He'd gotten a tip from a drug-dealer he'd tied up, and he knew he had to check it out. His mistake had been deciding to engage the thugs when he got to the warehouse and saw what they were doing.

He would have called Mr. Stark, but it was definitely not a big enough problem to warrant Iron Man's attention. He should have called the police, but he thought the criminals might bolt if they heard sirens, and then they would have started up the whole business somewhere else.

So he had decided to take care of it himself. It was stupid. Really stupid. It was hard to believe, but Peter knew he'd probably be dead (or at least very badly hurt) if Deadpool hadn't shown up to help. He really would have preferred it if his savior hadn't killed quite so many people, but that was a separate issue.

There was something bothering Peter even more than his own stupidity and his confusion over Deadpool's willingness to die (sort of) for him: It was surprisingly easy to talk to the mercenary. Sure, he talked to voices that nobody else could hear, and some of his comments made Peter blush, but they still seemed to get along just fine. And that was concerning, wasn't it? Peter saved people. He saved people from killers like Deadpool. He couldn't be _friends_ with killers like Deadpool. Even if he only killed bad guys (and Peter still wasn't sure what he thought about that, or if he even completely believed it).

So why did he find himself keeping an eye out for red and black spandex whenever he was out patrolling? It wasn't because he was afraid of running into Deadpool, even though he was fairly certain he should be.

He thought about that night on the roof with the tacos quite a lot. He couldn't keep it off his mind, in fact. He searched through his memory for any clues that Deadpool had ulterior motives for being friendly. Was he trying to get close to Spider-Man just to use or hurt him in some way? Was he doing it all as a joke? It seemed possible, given his questionable sanity. But Peter thought he'd seemed honest, like he really wanted to hang out with Spider-Man. Like he'd been telling the truth when he said 'you'll break my fragile heart.'

Maybe Peter was just naïve.

Still, he couldn't help himself from looking for Deadpool when he went out the last few nights. It had been five days, and there was no sign of him. It was likely that they were just missing each other; it was a big city, after all. But Peter still felt a bit anxious about it. He wasn't sure he wanted Deadpool to disappear after dropping into his life so unexpectedly.

It had been five days since the warehouse fiasco, and today was Peter's birthday.

He'd been dreading it all week. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to turn sixteen, he just didn't want everyone to make a big deal about it. But it was clear that he wasn't going to get what he wanted.

When he had managed to stumble in and out of the shower - scalding hot and then freezing cold: the only way to wake him up - and pull some clothes onto his sore, tired body, he made his way to the kitchen. Aunt May had cooked his favorite breakfast, pancakes and bacon, and had it sitting out for him.

He hated the fuss, but he couldn't help but smile as he sat down to shovel the delicious food into his mouth. He thanked his Aunt when she came out of her room, slipping her nurse's jacket on over her threadbare work shirt.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Peter." She scolded him, but she had a gentle smile on her face.

She sat down at the table with Peter, a rare occurrence since they were both usually in a rush to get out the door in the morning. Peter looked at her as he took a bite of bacon, his heart clenching to see the grey in her hair and the dark circles under her eyes. She worked so hard to take care of them. Peter often thought about quitting his internship so that he could get a real job (one that paid, at least), but Aunt May would hear nothing of it. She was adamant that Peter worry about nothing other than doing well in school and gaining valuable experience in the field he hoped to enter one day. She didn't know that he worried about a lot more than that… And he hoped she'd never find out.

"Are you working late again today?" He asked, careful to swallow his food before speaking this time.

"Afraid so." Aunt May smiled tiredly. "But I should have the whole day off tomorrow."

Peter nodded. "That's good. Maybe we can do a movie marathon." They hadn't done that in a while, but it was one of their favorite ways to spend time together. Uncle Ben used to go all out on movie nights, buying snacks and soda and other rare treats. It made them both a little sad to do it without him, but it was also sort of a way to remember him.

Aunt May grinned. "Count on it." She pulled her purse into her lap and started fishing around in it. "But we're not getting anything with the word 'chainsaw' in the title. I think we both learned our lesson last time."

Peter chuckled and nodded his agreement. "I'll never be able to use a power saw again."

"We both know you never used one before." She shot back, making Peter grin. She seemed to find what she was looking for in her bag and she pulled it out, handing him a small, pristinely wrapped gift box. Peter's heart sank, feeling extremely guilty that she had spent money on him. "Aunt May…" He took the box with a slight frown, but the look she gave him said that she would hear no protests.

When he opened it, he found a familiar watch with its worn leather band laying nestled inside tissue paper. It had belonged to his Uncle Ben. "Oh, Aunt May…" He carefully removed the watch, cradling it between his fingers and watching the tiny second hand ticking smoothly across the watch face.

"I had a new battery put in. I thought you might like to wear it." She reached out and patted his free hand. Peter's throat felt tight.

"Thank you." He told her, meeting her eyes with a wavering smile. "I would love to wear it." He slipped it on his wrist right then and there, fitting the prong through a hole in the leather band two sizes smaller than the one already worn from use.

"It looks very nice on you, Peter." Aunt May told him. When he hugged her goodbye, they were both a little teary.

"Be careful tonight." She told Peter as she smoothed down his hair (something she always attempted to do with limited success). "But have fun. You deserve it."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks, Aunt May. I'll see you in the morning." He walked her to the door and locked it behind her even though he'd be leaving for school in just a few minutes (it was better to be safe than sorry in this neighborhood, even if he was Spider-Man).

The reminder of Harry's party was enough to sour Peter's entire day.

Yes, it was _Harry's_ party, not Peter's. He'd never wanted it, and he was dreading it now more than ever. Harry and M.J. had been talking about it constantly all week. They went on and on about how lucky it was that Peter's birthday fell on a Friday, so everyone could come. They obsessed over what DJ to get, what the facebook event should say (Peter didn't have a facebook, so he never saw what they settled on), and how much alcohol they should buy.

It was going to be a miserable night.

At least Ned would be there, so Peter wouldn't be totally alone in a corner. He'd be alone in a corner with Ned.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I'm taking you out for ice-cream."

"What?" Peter stared across the top of the car at Harry. School had just ended, and Peter had met Harry outside in the parking lot. Ned had disappeared to go help M.J. get streamers from the art room or something like that. Peter had offered to come help, but he'd been practically pushed away and told that the 'birthday boy' shouldn't have to help set up his own party.

"It's your birthday, you get ice-cream." Harry smirked at Peter, unlocking his convertible and getting in.

Peter followed, slipping into the passenger seat with care. "Not that I can argue with your logic, but aren't we supposed to go to your house to start setting up for horror-fest 2017?"

"Ha ha. You're very funny Peter. Very witty. Have I ever told you that?" Harry started the car and backed out of his spot. He turned to join the line of cars inching their way off school grounds.

"What about M.J. and Ned? Don't we have to at least drive them to your place first?"

"No." Harry gave Peter a smug look. "I'm having a car pick them up."

Peter let out a groan, his head falling back against the comfortable leather headrest. "God, Harry. How much are you spending on this stupid party? No, don't tell me. I really don't want to know."

Harry kept his mouth shut, but that smug look didn't leave his face.

As they pulled out onto the street and started heading downtown, Harry turned on his radio to a generic top 100 station. It wasn't really Peter's taste, but it was Harry's car and he wasn't about to complain.

"You know, we really did look into getting Britney Spears for you. I know how you had your hopes up, but she wasn't available. I'm sorry." Harry tried to maintain his mock seriousness, but he couldn't stop his mouth from twisting into a wry smile.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Gee, I'm heart broken. You better have a stripper or I'm boycotting the party." Boycotting didn't seem like a bad idea, especially if there was going to be a stripper. But Peter knew he could never do that to Harry and M.J. Not when they'd put so much effort into this. Even if it wasn't what Peter wanted.

"Don't worry, Petey. We'll have more than one." Harry winked at him, which was the only way Peter knew for sure that he was joking.

Traffic was bad, as it always was in the city, but the drive went quickly when Harry rolled down the roof and blasted bad pop radio, earning more than a couple of shouts and rude gestures from fellow drivers. Peter didn't usually like attention (especially not the kind that got strangers yelling dirty words at you), but the way Harry seemed to enjoy flipping people off and dancing obnoxiously to Beyoncé at stoplights had Peter laughing along until they reached their destination.

Parking in New York is usually impossible, but Harry pulling into a mall parking garage charging twenty-five an hour without a second glance. Peter would complain, but he was learning that it didn't do any good when it came to Harry spending money on him. Peter was a quick learner, he really was.

They found their way to some pretentious frozen yogurt store in the mall. Peter was apprehensive, but they apparently sold normal ice cream, too. Harry got something with coffee and a mature sounding name like 'espresso bean.' Peter got mint chocolate chip, his favorite since he was a little kid. They sat on the uncomfortable plastic chairs and watched rich middle-aged women and teenagers walking through the fashion mall.

"What do you think's going on there?" Harry gestured with his plastic spoon at a couple standing in front of an Eddie Bauer display window. The man was older, probably close to sixty, his grey hair neatly combed and his clothing clearly designer. The girl was less than half his age, and she was hanging off his arm, talking animatedly about something they could see in the store.

"Personal shopper?" Peter suggested through a mouthful of ice cream.

Harry snickered. "You're very optimistic. It's sweet."

"What, you think they're fucking?"

Harry pretended to gasp, clutching at his heart with his free hand. "Language, Peter Parker. My goodness."

Peter rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, too.

"Nice job with the Gene X data, by the way." Harry scooped up some of his ice cream and offered it to Peter, who leaned over to eat it off the spoon. He made a face at the flavor, because to be honest he'd never been a big fan of coffee. "Dad won't stop going on about how you saved the whole project."

Peter felt his cheeks warm, but he accepted the praise with a small, self-satisfied smile. It had taken him a long time, but he'd finally solved the puzzle. It had been harder because the lab analysts weren't allowed any identifying information about the data; they basically got numbers grouped into rows and columns, and were told to analyze it. Oscorp kept their projects secure that way, but Peter thought they risked road blocks like the one that almost crashed the Gene X project. "Thanks. It was easy once I figured out the right matrices to organize the data with. I mean, it wasn't easy. I don't mean to say it was easy for me because I'm smarter than anyone else working on it. I just got lucky."

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're not lucky, Peter. You're smart. No one else figured it out."

Peter shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on his unnaturally green ice cream. "Well… I'm just glad I could help."

Peter thought he heard Harry mumble something about someone being too humble and clueless for their own good, but he ignored it, savoring the last few bites of his frozen treat.

When they were both finished, Peter expected they'd head to Harry's place, even if all he was allowed to do was sit around until the party started. Instead, Harry had another surprise up his sleeve. Apparently he enjoyed springing them on Peter.

"The party doesn't start for another two hours. How about we catch a movie?"

Peter stared blankly. "Won't that make us late?"

"It's called being fashionably late. Especially when it's your own party. It'll make you cool, Peter. Don't you want to be cool?" Harry was already leading them through the mall towards the big movie theatre at the opposite end.

Peter sighed, but acquiesced with a reluctant "Fine, I guess." He was already going along with so much today, what was one more surrender?

Harry let Peter pick the movie, since it was his birthday, so Peter picked a documentary on black holes. It was only screening for a limited time and Peter had been wanting to see it. Harry bought the tickets with minimal commentary, only once calling Peter's choice "about as cheerful as… well, black holes." They got popcorn and a large coke to share.

As they sat in their seats and watched the previews, Peter shoveled popcorn into his mouth without hesitation. He used to be more conscious of what he ate, before the whole radioactive spider bite thing, but now he just ate without much thought. Sometimes he didn't have much of an appetite, and he would forget to eat full meals for days on end. But other times he was famished. No matter what, he could put away a _lot_ of food without feeling full. He had his fast spidey metabolism to thank for that.

He and Harry fought briefly over the soda before the lights went down and the feature film began. Peter was fascinated. He found the documentary so interesting, in fact, that he forgot to keep eating the popcorn. About half-way through, something pulled his attention from the screen.

Harry had slumped down in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, and was now resting his head against Peter's shoulder. Peter craned his neck to see Harry's face, biting down on his bottom lip when he saw that Harry's eyes were closed. Typical… He left Harry alone until the credits started rolling, at which point he stuck a popcorn kernel up Harry's left nostril.

"Ugh, what… Fuck, Peter." Harry sat up, his eyes slightly glazed, and blew the popcorn out of his nose.

Peter couldn't hold back his laughter. "Serves you right…" He told the older boy. "You fell asleep at my birthday movie."

"Well, it's not my fault you picked literally the most boring movie showing at this theatre." Harry ran a hand through his hair, somehow simultaneously smoothing it down and arranging it into its usual artful mess. "I mean, they couldn't even get Morgan Freeman to narrate it."

Peter shoved lightly at Harry's shoulder, still grinning. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. He hadn't expected to enjoy himself so much, not with the party from hell looming on his horizon, but Harry had almost made him forget about the social disaster that was going to be his evening.

They found Harry's car in the lot and started towards his building, Harry paying a hundred dollars at the gate without so much as a blink.

"Thanks." Peter said as they sat at a red light.

"What for?" Harry had one hand draped over the steering wheel, his other elbow resting casually on his windowsill.

"For the ice cream." Peter smirked. "And for falling asleep on me at the most boring movie ever."

Harry shook his head, but there was warmth in his smile and something else in his eyes as he glanced at Peter. "Don't thank me yet, Parker. You haven't even had your party yet."

Peter just sighed, resigned to his fate.

Harry lived on the fiftieth floor of one of the nicest residential buildings in New York. In fact, his father owned the entire fiftieth floor, as well as the forty-eighth and forty-ninth. It was excessive, in Peter's opinion. But then again, Peter lived in a three-room apartment in Queens, so what did he know?

His stomach had twisted itself in knots by the time they had parked and were riding the elevator up to the big five-oh. He watched the numbers light up one by one on the display panel above the doors.

"I hope you like beer-bong." Harry chuckled, breaking the silence. Peter only grunted in reply. God, this was going to suck…

Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five…

Peter had expected to hear the music by now, especially with his enhanced hearing, but there was nothing. Maybe Harry's apartment was soundproof, which would make throwing parties a lot easier, after all.

Something suddenly occurred to Peter. "Hey, where's your dad?"

Harry kept his eyes on the ascending numbers. "Oh, he's here somewhere."

Peter frowned. "He doesn't mind you throwing this party?"

Harry shook his head. "No, he doesn't mind."

Peter found that hard to believe. Norman Osborn was a strict man, and he never hid his displeasure about Harry's less than rigid work ethic or fondness of parties. But he let it go, trying to wipe the frown off his face as the elevator slowed and finally drifted into place at the fiftieth floor.

He took a deep breath as the doors began to open with a ding, preparing himself for whatever was on the other side.

As the penthouse came into view, Peter's jaw dropped in surprise.

There were no strobe lights. There was no mass of dancing bodies. No spilt drinks. No stage. No DJ. There wasn't even music playing.

Instead, Ned and M.J. stood beneath a homemade birthday banner wearing paper hats. M.J. was grinning like she'd just won the lottery and Ned blew on one of those stupid little party horns, the kazoo-like noise the only thing breaking the silence. On a table behind them sat pizza boxes, drinks, and an anniversary edition box set of Battlestar Galactica.

"Wha…" Peter glanced around as if they were hiding the party somewhere else. "But… Where are all the people I hate?"

Harry took his arm and led him out of the elevator. M.J. couldn't seem to hold in her gleeful laughter, clapping her hands in front of her. "Peter, you should see your _face_."

Peter blinked at them, his expression just as confused as it was five seconds ago. "I don't… But I thought you guys wanted like, a _party_."

Harry turned Peter to face him, still holding on to his arm, and there was a smile on his mouth that was more warm than smug. "You said you only had three friends. Well… Here we are."

Peter gaped at Harry for a moment, glanced over at Ned and M.J., then back at Harry. "Oh." He breathed. He threw his arms around the older boy's neck and buried his face in his shoulder, making Harry stumble slightly. "I can't believe you did this." He mumbled, his eyes burning lightly with unshed tears.

Harry chuckled, his arms sliding around Peter's waist to hold him closer. "Aw, Petey… We know you hate real parties."

Peter choked out a laugh, shoving Harry away gently as he pulled back. "Are you telling me this isn't a real party?" He asked with mock indignation.

"Of course it's a real party." M.J. moved over to them, pulling Peter into a hug as well. "It's a Peter Parker Party."

Peter chuckled, giving M.J. a light squeeze before they separated again. He glanced at Ned, his cheeks split in a wide smile.

"Don't expect one from me." Ned said, grinning. "I'll catch the next hug fest."

Peter rolled his eyes, easily pulling Ned into a one-armed hug as he turned to survey the food and sci-fi DVDs.

"This is too fucking great." Peter looked around at his friends one more time, an ache in his chest as he wondered how he ended up with such amazing people in his life. And that they cared about him _this much_ , it seemed way too good to be true. "Thank you, guys."

Harry waved his hand as if brushing Peter's words away. "Shut up and get your pizza, Parker."

Peter couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Yes, sir."

They all got their food and sat down on the massive leather couch in Harry's movie room (yes, he had a movie room). Harry put the first DVD in and Ned leaned over to Peter as the opening scene began.

"Can you believe we're in Harry fucking Osborn's house?" He whispered.

Peter snorted, speaking around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza. "It's not a house, Ned."

Ned huffed. "You know what I mean." He hissed, nudging Peter's side. "It's like we're actually cool!"

Peter couldn't help but laugh.

He and Ned had seen the show before, of course, so they pointed out clues to each other and discussed the possibility of cylons existing in the real world. M.J. asked an occasional question, seeming fairly interested in the plot. Harry cracked a few jokes, but otherwise behaved himself.

Peter was over the moon. It was perfect. Just perfect.

After two episodes, Harry paused the show and disappeared. He came back a minute later with a giant plastic case of brownies and three nicely wrapped birthday presents.

Peter shook his head, his cheeks warming even as he grinned. "Nooo…" He protested. "You shouldn't have gotten me anything."

M.J. curled up against his side and hit him lightly on the arm. "Stop being such a sour puss and open your presents! We know you don't like parties but you at least have to go through the motions. For the sake of us normal human beings."

"Okay, okay…" He acquiesced with a chuckle, leaning forward to pluck the biggest box from the pile. It was surprisingly heavy.

"That's from me." Harry said, sitting down in a big leather armchair.

Peter smiled at him shyly before carefully peeling the wrapping paper away from the gift. As the picture on the box appeared, he gasped. "No…" He breathed. "Harry, there's no fucking way I can accept this." He looked up at his friend with wide brown eyes.

"You need it." Harry said firmly.

"No, I… I have one already. I can't… Harry, this is too expensive." He looked back down at the clean white box, a pristine picture of the newest MacBook Pro floating ethereally above the text.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Then think of it as a bonus for saving the project at Oscorp. We don't pay you anyway, so this is the least we could do."

Peter shook his head, but he could feel the desire itching at his fingertips. God, to have a computer like this… To not have to wait five minutes just for an application to load. He could do so much.

"Take it." Harry pressed. "Otherwise it'll just be going in the trash."

Peter gasped again, clutching the box possessively to his chest. "You wouldn't."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I would, and you know it."

Peter bit down on his bottom lip and looked down at the box again. "Okay…" He finally said. "But only to save this marvelous machine from your careless paws."

Harry smirked. "Fine with me."

M.J. nudged Peter's arm. "Open mine next." She leaned forward and got it for him. "We can't all drop thousands of dollars on your birthday present." She shot a playful glare at Harry. "But I hope you like it anyway."

"I'm sure I will." He told her. Peter set his new laptop carefully aside and took the gift from M.J. It was thin and light, and Peter was gentle when he took off the wrapping paper. It took him a moment to figure out what he was looking at, but when he got it a warm smile spread over his face. "M.J…" He ran his hand over the front page.

It was a book. A comic book, to be exact. It was called 'The Amazing Adventures of Peter Parker' and it was definitely him on the cover, drawn in skillful detail and colored beautifully. He was wearing blue jeans and a red hoodie, standing in front of Midtown High School holding his textbooks. He looked like the nerd he was, glasses perched on his nose and his hair a mess like it always was. But M.J. had made him look good, somehow. Surely much better than he did in real life.

"Do you like it?" She asked, fingers clutching gently at his sleeve.

"I love it." He flipped through the pages, his eyes running over the flawless illustrations. "This is incredible." He told her, warmth spreading through his chest as he looked at a picture of he, M.J. and Harry sitting in the cafeteria together.

He closed the book and pulled M.J. into a hug. "Thank you." He told her, smiling as she tucked her face into his shoulder. "I can't wait to read it."

"Me next, me next!" Peter pulled away to receive Ned's present. He wasn't so careful in tearing off the paper this time.

Peter laughed. "Yes… This is gonna be even cooler than the Death Star." It was a Millennium Falcon Lego kit. He leaned over M.J. to bump fists with Ned. "Thanks, dude."

Overall, it was the best birthday Peter had ever had.

They were all eating brownies and Peter was reverently reading the box for his new computer when there was a knock at the open door. Peter glanced up as Mr. Osborn (senior, that is) entered the room.

He was a tall man, and very imposing. He was almost fifty but you couldn't tell if it weren't for the streaks of grey through his otherwise thick black hair. He had a sharp gaze that made almost anyone who fell under it feel nervous, no matter the man's mood. Peter put down the box and his brownie, quickly wiping his hands on his pants. He saw Harry straighten in his chair across the room, his face falling into the neutral expression he often wore around his father.

"Harry, I need to speak to you for a moment." Norman cricked a finger at his son, summoning him with unquestionable authority. As Harry got up from his seat, Norman glanced over at Peter. His mouth spread into a smile, and Peter suppressed a frown as an uncomfortable tingle trickled down his neck.

"Ah, Mr. Parker. Happy birthday."

Peter smiled politely. "Thank you, sir."

"And good job on the Gene X project. Your work is truly impressive, especially for an intern."

Peter blinked in surprise; Norman Osborn hardly ever gave praise. He knew from Harry that the man hadn't praised his own son in months. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

Norman's smile turned into something closer to a smirk. "Yes, well… If you keep it up, we'll definitely have a place for you at the company." His gaze turned back to Harry. "There might be an opening at the top if my son doesn't get his act together."

Peter licked his lips, unsure how to respond to that. Bitter concern rose in his chest as his gaze flickered to Harry's guarded eyes and tight-lipped smile.

Norman spoke again after a moment, gesturing for Harry to leave the room with him. "Harry." Was all he said, and the younger Osborn responded obediently.

Norman spared barely a glance for M.J. and Ned before he left the room, looking down at them as if they were mildly interesting insects he happened to spot in a place where they didn't belong. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind he and Harry, and there was silence in the room.

Ned was the one to break it. "Ho-ly _shit_. That was Norman fucking Osborn?"

Peter nodded, his eyes still glued to the door.

"That guy was seriously scary."

Peter had to admit, every encounter he had with the Oscorp CEO made him more unsettled than the last. He turned his head to the side and listened for the Osborns, hoping to catch some of their conversation. He knew it was a serious breech of privacy to listen in, but what use is super hearing if you can't use it?

He tuned in to Norman's low voice, ignoring M.J. and Ned's chatter about Oscorp to focus on the conversation taking place in the hall. "Have you reconsidered, Harry? As I said before, Harvard Business is the best school you could hope to - "

"I told you." Harry's voice was tense, but even. "I decided on Columbia. I want to stay in the city, and their business school is just as - "

"I had hoped you would reconsider." Norman's responding tone was sharp and bitter. "It would be a shame if you couldn't afford school because I _cut you off_."

There was silence for a moment, and Peter found himself holding his breath.

"Dad, I'm sorry about the meeting. It's just that project… I don't like that - "

"We'll talk about that later." Norman cut Harry off decisively. "Go back to your little friends." There were receding footsteps, as if Norman was walking away, then they paused. "I leave for Tokyo in the morning, so I'll see you when I get back Monday afternoon. I expect you to be in the office after school."

"Yes, sir."

Peter focused his attention back on the room, pretending to listen to Ned prattle on about how many pools he thought the Osborn's could afford. A moment later, the door slid open and Harry walked back to the couch, sitting down beside Peter with a sigh.

"Everything okay?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. He's just pissed about something I said in a meeting earlier this week. It's no big deal." Peter watched Harry closely as the dark-haired boy leaned forward to get another brownie. Harry seemed to notice his stare, and arranged his mouth into a challenging smile. "Come on, you call this eating? There's still two dozen brownies left."

Peter, glad to lighten the mood, took the challenge seriously. Over the next two episodes of Battlestar, they finished off all the brownies. M.J. ate two more, Ned ate three. Harry ate three as well, and Peter ate seventeen. His spider powers were obviously being put to good use.

Peter had pretty much lost track of time since he was having so much fun, so he was surprised when M.J. checked her phone and announced that she had to get home before her dad threw a fit.

"Yeah, I should go too." Ned stood up and stretched his arms over his head, letting out a loud yawn. "Thanks for having us over, Harry." He grinned a little too enthusiastically at the host.

Harry nodded coolly. It was funny to see his friend acting so aloof with most other people, especially when he could be so kind to Peter. Those clear blue eyes moved to Peter. "You're staying here, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I kind of already told Aunt May that I was."

"Good." Harry stood up to walk Ned and M.J. out, and Peter went to say goodbye, as well.

Harry pulled M.J. into a light hug as they neared the elevator. "See you later." He told her, smirking as he ruffled her hair and she huffed at him. He offered Ned a half-hearted wave, and rolled his eyes when Ned responded with an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"You taking the subway?" Ned asked M.J.

"Yeah. But could you wait downstairs for me? I'll just be a minute."

"Oh, uh… yeah, sure. No problem." Ned pressed the button for the elevator and caught Peter's eye, giving him a pointed look.

Peter frowned slightly, giving his friend a confused look in return.

"See ya, Peter. Happy birthday." Ned was darting his eyes between Peter and M.J. as he spoke, only confusing Peter more.

"Yeah… Thanks. I'll see you Monday." He watched Ned get on the elevator, really having no clue what those strange moves had been about. He turned to M.J. with a smile, only to see her eyes flicker to Harry. She cleared her throat, and Harry chuckled dryly, running a hand through his hair.

"I'll, uh… I'll be in the kitchen." He told Peter, a strangely annoyed look passing over his features as he turned and walked away.

Bewildered, Peter turned back to M.J. He looked at her for a moment before relaxing into a smile again. "Thanks for this, M.J. You and Harry are really amazing friends."

M.J. smiled shyly. "Harry did most of the work." She admitted. She stepped closer, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear, and Peter's smile turned quizzical.

She cleared her throat, and met his eyes. Her cheeks seemed a little more colored than they usually did. "Happy birthday, Peter." Her hands came up to Peter's chest, her fingers catching on his jacket as she leaned in. Her lips met his, clumsy and warm.

Peter jerked away, a surprised noise rising from his throat. "M.J…. What…?" He let out a nervous laugh. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him with wide, shocked eyes, and the tense silence dragged on for a few seconds. "Wow." She finally said, her hands dropping from Peter as she stepped away.

Peter stared after her, realization slowly dawning on him like ice trickling through his veins. "M.J…"

She shook her head, and Peter was mortified to see tears rising to her pretty green eyes. "I'll… I'll see you around, Peter." She turned to jab at the elevator button before folding her arms over her chest.

Suddenly Peter felt awful. There was a sinking in his stomach and a buzzing in his ears - he'd definitely made some sort of mistake. "M.J., wait."

But the elevator arrived and M.J. stepped in, avoiding Peter's eyes. "Happy birthday." She mumbled as the doors slid shut.

Peter stood and stared at the elevator doors for a long time, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Slowly, still feeling shocked and incredibly guilty now, Peter turned and made his way to Harry's giant kitchen in a bit of a daze. He found Harry leaning against the granite counter, his gaze focused down into the contents of the mug he cradled in his hand.

"So… Did she kiss you?"

Peter blinked at Harry in surprise. "Y-Yeah." How had he known? Had everyone known? How come Peter hadn't known?

Harry's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Gee, that's great. Peter's first kiss." He raised his gaze to Peter's and his eyes were hard.

Peter's stomach sunk further. Harry was clearly unhappy about something; how had he messed this up, too?

"Look, I'm kind of tired." Harry set his mug in the sink and started to walk past Peter. "I think I'm just gonna go to bed." He paused in the kitchen doorway. "Just pick any of the guest rooms, they're all prepared. I'll see you in the morning." And with that he disappeared down the hall without another glance at Peter.

Peter stood in the kitchen, feeling like his heart was being squeezed by a giant fist. And he didn't even know _why_. It was incredibly confusing.

He walked back out to the foyer, and the sight of the birthday banner made his throat burn. How was it that everything had been perfect just fifteen minutes ago, and now it felt like his whole world was falling apart? What had he done wrong?

He found his way back to the movie room and carefully packed his gifts in his backpack. He left a note for Harry on the kitchen counter thanking him for the party and saying that he'd gone home. He just couldn't bear to stay here when it was clear that Harry didn't want him around anymore.

So he took the elevator down fifty floors and walked out into the cool New York night, running the last half hour over and over in his head as he made his way to the subway.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Three hours later, Peter was sitting on the roof of a tall office building in the Bronx, his legs dangling carelessly over the edge. He had gone home when he left Harry's, slipping in through his bedroom window so he wouldn't wake his Aunt. But the oppressive silence had pressed in on him when he sat down on his bed, suddenly more lonely than it had ever been before. Unable to stand it, he'd put his Spider suit on and crawled back out into the night.

He didn't usually like the Bronx much, but tonight it was what he needed. He could hear traffic and muted voices, the occasional shout or barking dog, but otherwise it was quiet. It wasn't loud and bright and painfully alive like Midtown was at all hours of the night.

Peter hadn't stopped any crime tonight. He should be making an effort, he knew that, but he'd ended up just spending the last hour sitting here shooting webs into the distance and thinking about what an idiot he'd been. He realized that Harry must like M.J., and that's why he'd been so pissed at Peter. He didn't understand why Harry hadn't acted on his feelings or told Peter about them, but there could be a dozen reasons for that. The point was that Peter screwed up, and he somehow hurt two of the most important people in his life. He wouldn't be surprised if they never wanted to speak to him again.

So he was sitting here, drowning himself in misery and wasting his web fluid. He couldn't even be a good Spider-Man tonight.

He was trying once again to pick out all of the clues from this evening that might have indicated M.J.'s feelings for him. He was even tracing back through the week, going over every interaction he'd had with her, when a sound tickled his ear, standing out from the rest of the background noise.

Someone was singing, light and sweet. "Every night in my dreams, I see you… I feel you…" The singing dissolved into humming, and the voice was getting closer. It sounded maybe half a block away.

"Near… Far… Wherever you are," The voice crooned, coaxing a gentle grin onto Peter's face. He didn't turn around yet, waiting for Deadpool to run across the last couple of buildings to find him. "I believe that the heart does go on. Once more, you open the door, and you're here in my heart, and my heart will go on and - "

There was a flurry of movement behind Peter and he bit down on his bottom lip, waiting.

"Spidey-babe! Rose, darling!" Peter glanced back as Deadpool bounded over to him. "I've been looking everywhere for you!" He cried in a fake British accent. "The ship is sinking and we've got to jump!" He hurtled towards Peter, lunging down and sliding across the last few feet on his stomach like a baseball player diving for the base. He knocked into Peter with quite a bit of force, almost sending both of them hurtling over the edge of the roof.

Peter grunted, but managed to cling to the roof with his fingers and hold them both back. "Deadpool." He greeted the mercenary, his voice strained after the overenthusiastic greeting.

Deadpool pulled himself up with a grin, brushing himself off as if he'd just been for a pleasant roll down a grassy hill. "Spider-Man." He mimicked Peter's tone, only slightly mocking. He checked to make sure his katanas were straight before sitting down properly beside Peter, also draping his legs over the edge.

"Seriously, Spidey, where have you been hiding those tight buns of yours?"

Peter chuckled, his neck feeling a bit warm. "I've been around." He answered honestly. "I've patrolled every night since the warehouse." In fact, he'd patrolled every night for the last two weeks, setting a punishing pace for himself. If he was being honest, he'd probably been avoiding taking a night off because he'd risk missing a run-in with Deadpool if the mouthy mercenary happened to be out at the same time in the same place. It seemed kind of silly when he thought about it.

"Really?" Deadpool huffed out a laugh. "Then we must have some serious romance-movie serendipity missed connections shit going on here. I've been out every night, too. I guess we're just looking for each other at the wrong adult video stores."

"Who said I was looking for you?" Peter smirked slightly, unable to stop himself from teasing.

"Ooh…" Deadpool hissed, clutching dramatically at his heart. "Ouch, Spidey. You got me right in the carotid artery."

Peter let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Maybe we should pick a meeting place." He suggested, then immediately felt ridiculous for saying it out loud. "I mean… Like just in case we really need to get a hold of each other for some reason. We could just check the spot occasionally. Or something." God, what a stupid idea. He could feel his face turning red, and was once again glad that he was wearing his mask. Why the fuck would a hero and an assassin need to find each other?

But Deadpool seemed into the idea. "Shit, yeah. Good thinking, Spidey-boy, I knew you were the smart one." He scoffed lightly under his breath. "Well, we sure aren't. I mean, come on."

"Do you know the Bank of America building on tenth street in Midtown?" Peter asked. It was one of his favorites, tall and easy to scale. Not to mention it was centrally located and only ten minutes from Peter's place.

"The shiny one? Yep." Deadpool nodded enthusiastically. "Yessiree I do."

"Alright. That can be our spot, then."

Peter wasn't prepared for the giddy grin he could practically see through Deadpool's mask, or the heavy, warm arm that was suddenly slung across his shoulders. "Our spot." The red-clad man repeated, pulling Peter against his side. "Sounds like a perfect place for sordid midnight quickies between bursts of crime-fighting action."

Peter's face felt hot, as did the skin across his side and back where Deadpool's body pressed against his. He made a small sound of protest, pushing away from the larger man's heated body and disentangling himself from the strong arm that held him there. Deadpool released him easily, allowing Peter to restore a few inches of space between them. "Speaking of crime-fighting, webbed yourself any tasty bugs lately?"

Peter cleared his throat. "Sure. There was some asshole dressed up like Captain America who tried to rob a bank last night. That one was pretty entertaining."

Deadpool chuckled. "Oh yeah, I heard about that. Is it true he even had his own shield?"

Peter smiled. "It was plastic."

Deadpool laughed, and the sound of it sent a light tingle down Peter's back. "Oh, that's good. Gotta give the guy props for creativity, I guess." He reached for his hip holster and slid out one of his guns.

Peter tensed, his smile dropping away.

Deadpool reached somewhere else on his belt and produced an oil-stained cloth. Peter watched closely as he dissembled the gun and began wiping down each piece. The subtle scent of gunpowder and gun oil filled the air, causing Peter's nose to wrinkle slightly.

"What about tonight? Caught any fat flies in the Bronx?" Peter watched Deadpool's fingers as he thoroughly, almost lovingly, slid the cloth around each piece. He felt his anxiety easing away as he watched the care with which Deadpool handled the weapon. It was hypnotic, almost soothing.

Peter sniffed and shook his head, looking back out over the horizon. "No… Not tonight." His voice was tinged with the sadness that had haunted his last few hours, his exhaustion creeping up on him and weakening his control.

Something about that caught Deadpool's attention, and his gaze was impossibly sharp behind the eyes of his mask as he looked at Peter.

"Why not?"

Peter shrugged, feeling childishly embarrassed that he'd allowed his silly personal drama to bleed into his night life. He was silent for a while, half hoping that Deadpool would just forget about it and start spouting nonsense about ships or something again. But that gaze was unrelenting.

He finally gave in with a dramatic sigh. "It's my birthday today." He admitted, the words hardly more than a mumble.

Deadpool blinked at him. "Gee, Spidey, contain your enthusiasm. I'll have to use my horse sedatives on you. And then god knows what'll happen because an unconscious spider, with that ass, and me, together, in the same place, well. You know."

Peter felt the ghost of a smile flicker across his lips; he had no doubt that the sneaky mercenary really did have horse sedatives on him, hidden away in one of those pouches or pockets.

Deadpool went still, his eyes widening. "You're right." He swiftly and smoothly reassembled the weapon, setting his gun aside and starting to pat himself down as if searching for something. "Knock me out and fuck me with a machete, I didn't get you anything!"

Peter's smile was a bit wider now. "Of course you didn't. Unless you also have psychic abilities, you couldn't have known." Not to mention that Deadpool getting Spider-Man a birthday present was like… something out of a weird comic book. The thought of comic books made Peter remember M.J.'s gift, and his smile faded quickly.

"Wait, wait, wait… Hold on to your seahorses…" He was digging through his pouches and pockets now. "I know I have it somewhere…." He paused, then reached around to a pouch on the back of his belt (really, how did he hide so much shit in there?). "Ah… Right. Thanks Yellow."

Deadpool turned to face Peter, propping one leg up near his hip while the other remained dangling over the three-hundred foot drop. He was holding something in his large gloved hands, but Peter couldn't see what it was.

He was probably imagining it, but for a moment it seemed like Deadpool hesitated, his fingers curling almost imperceptibly around whatever he was holding. But the moment passed and the loud-mouthed mercenary was holding his cupped hands out to Peter. "Happy birthday, Spidey-boy."

Peter reached out and carefully picked up the paper thing nestled in the red fabric of Deadpool's gloves. He stared at it for a moment before he really saw what it was, and he inhaled in gentle surprise when it became clear. It was a crane. A delicate paper crane made from a taco wrapper.

"Wow." He whispered, staring down at it in surprise.

"Yeah, I know. It's trash." Deadpool picked up his gun again and resumed running the cloth over it, caressing it with mindless affection.

Peter quickly shook his head in protest. "No, it's really beautiful."

Deadpool snorted. "No, sweetums. I mean it's literally trash. It's a food wrapper."

Peter rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop the slow, genuine smile from spreading across his mouth. "Yeah, I know. But it's from that night on the roof, right?"

Deadpool went very still, but his eyes remained fixed on his gun. "He remembered." He breathed, quietly enough that Peter wouldn't have heard it if he didn't have super hearing. "You didn't think he would either."

He straightened his shoulders and glanced sideways to meet Peter's eyes. "Yeah. But don't go getting any ideas. I'm not, like, obsessed with you or anything. Well, I mean I am. But that's not what this is about. This is about tacos. Because tacos are god's gift to mankind, and they deserve to be honored. So that's why I was carrying around a crane made out of a taco wrapper. I used it in a special taco-worshipping ceremony. It's definitely not a memento commemorating how pristine your ass looked on our first date."

Peter stared at Deadpool's mask, which had a strangely innocent expression, and after a moment of silence he burst into unexpected laughter. "Oh… my god…" He shook his head and set the paper crane on his thigh, careful not to crush it as he laughed. "You are so fucking strange."

"The strangest!" Deadpool agreed cheerfully, and he seemed to be grinning under his mask.

Peter stared back out over the dingy city as his chuckles faded away, still smiling lightly. Deadpool always made things pretty weird, but he had an unlikely knack for making Peter smile, too. He was still confused about it, and confused about why Deadpool was so obsessed with him anyways (expect that could probably just be chalked up to the assassin's questionable sanity). He let out a small sigh as his thoughts drifted back to the disaster that this night had become.

"So why are you so down and brown about your birthday, little spider?" Deadpool snorted softly, turning his head to the side to mumble something like, "Because brown is the worst color. We like red. And blue."

Peter felt his lips twitch, but the smile stayed away this time. He sighed again and kicked his feet idly, tracing one finger lightly over the crane's wings. "I was having a good day, actually. My friends… Well they threw me this party."

"Ooh, parties! We love party stories." Deadpool was listening intently, his attention focused for once.

Peter shook his head. "Not that kind of party. We were just hanging out and watching Battlestar Galactica and…" He felt his cheeks warming at his slip-up. Well, now Deadpool knew he was a dork; that'd really help his rep. "Anyway, it was perfect. But then, I… I screwed it up."

Deadpool let the silence stretch for a few moments before breaking it. "What did you do, shit on the cake? Web up the guests? Fuck your friend's mom?"

Peter scoffed. "No, I just… I didn't realize something was going on that _was_ going on, and I did something stupid because I was too blind to see what was right in front of me. And now two of my best friends can't even stand to look at me." His throat felt tight again, and he sniffed angrily. Why did he have to be so weak and clueless?

He dug his fingers into the edge of the roof and felt some of the cement crumble into his hand. He hurled it away, not bothering to watch how far it flew before falling back to earth. With his luck it would probably land on some poor unsuspecting birds. Or a puppy.

Deadpool let out a low whistle. "Fuck, Spidey. You're hot when you're angsty."

Peter rolled his eyes, but the mercenary's dirty mouth did lighten his mood a bit. He was still upset, but it was more of a drown-my-sorrows-in-ice-cream-and-chocolate-bars upset rather than an I-feel-like-the-only-person-in-the-world-and-I-wish-I-could-jump-off-this-roof upset.

Deadpool swung his feet around and rolled down onto his stomach, pulling a permanent marker from somewhere and uncapping it. He started humming under his breath as he doodled on the cement between them. Peter watched him draw a couple of stick figures, one obviously wearing the Deadpool mask (and sporting a suspiciously large fifth appendage that Peter tried to avoid studying too closely). The other looked a little misshapen, but it had a spider drawn on its chest, so Peter assumed that it was him. Deadpool drew a large circle between them and started marking a line of little posts on top of it.

"How many candles?" He asked.

Peter couldn't help but grin at the drawing. "Eighteen." He lied.

Deadpool froze, his head whipping up to stare at Peter. "What?" He asked, his voice flat.

Peter laughed weakly and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. He should have known it wouldn't be so easy to fool the mercenary. "Alright, alright… Sixteen."

There were several beats of silence, during which Peter started to feel nervous.

" _What_?" If Deadpool's tone had been flat before, it was sharp ice now, cracking and dangerous.

Peter tensed slightly, his fingers moving instinctually to his web shooters. "I'm… sixteen." He repeated slowly.

Suddenly Deadpool was on his feet, and the gun he'd been handling earlier was back in his hand.

Peter sprung up, too, his heart rocketing into overtime as a sharp tingle shot down his spine. He backed up a few steps, his eyes fixed warily on Deadpool, but the mercenary's attention didn't seem to be on him anymore.

The great red and black figure started pacing, an erratic, slightly wild edge to his gate. "Fucking hell. Fuck. What the… Shit." Peter swallowed, a heavy knot sinking into his stomach as he watched Deadpool. What had he done?

"Fucking pervert… God, and we… I know. Fuck. Just a fucking kid. Just a…" Deadpool gestured to himself as he paced, the barrel of the gun pressing briefly to his temple. "You don't think I know that? FUCK! I fucking know. Disgusting." He came to a sudden halt, the rise and fall of his chest much faster and heavier than it had been when they were talking.

Peter took a hesitant step forward, dread and guilt and fear consorting to make his voice weak and quiet when he asked, "Deadpool?" He cleared his throat to try again, but didn't get the chance.

"SHUT UP!" The sudden shout made Peter jump. "It's perverted. Fucking wrong. Fuck. But don't… No, that's not- Oh shut the fuck up you had just as many disgusting ideas as I did." He was starting to pace again, and Peter's eyes were glued to the gun he kept waving around; it was undoubtedly loaded.

"Deadpool." He tried once more, his voice firmer this time, but the mercenary couldn't hear him.

"Just a kid… A fucking kid. And we… We were going to… Yes, I fucking know. Well, you were the one who… No, we're not gonna-" Deadpool's voice turned hard like ice again. "No Yellow. We are not fucking doing that. I'm sure he likes his blood _right where it is_."

Peter felt a chill run through him. He'd known Deadpool was unstable. He killed people for a living, for fuck's sake. Not to mention the whole hearing voices thing. But this… Peter hadn't seen this before. He couldn't deny that it scared him.

But he was Spider-Man, and this helpless feeling was making him ache. He had to do something. He took a deep breath and forced himself to move cautiously towards Deadpool. The larger man didn't seem to notice him at all. When Peter was within reaching distance, he extended a hand and carefully caught Deadpool's left forearm, pausing his tirade. "Deadpool."

The mercenary jerked away as if he'd been burned and the gun was instantly trained on Peter.

Peter's breath caught in his throat.

A moment passed as Deadpool stared, his chest heaving. Then he was gone, running towards the fire escape and hurling himself onto it, disappearing from Peter's sight.

Peter swallowed, staring after him. He could follow, but it really didn't seem like a good idea. Whatever had triggered Deadpool's breakdown, it looked like Spider-Man's presence would just make it worse.

Somehow, Peter had managed to fuck this up, too.

With a tight chest and a burning throat, Peter walked along the edge of the roof until he found the paper crane. He sat back down and cradled the gift in his lap, the misery of the day and the exhaustion of the last couple of weeks finally spilling over his cheeks in salty streaks, making his mask damp and sticky against his skin.

This had definitely not been his best birthday.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
Beautiful Gas Mask - The Mountain Goats  
Lyrics:  
My Heart Will Go On - Céline Dion

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	4. Intoxicated with the Madness

**Wade**

 **[White]** **  
** **{Yellow}**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[You're disgusting.]

{The worst. Fuck. You wanted to slice up a child.}

[You wanted to fuck him. You wanted to spread his little spider legs and shove your cock into his tight, sweet-]

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up. I know. I know, okay? Fuck."

Wade couldn't find his safe house. He'd been running through the Bronx for fuck-knows how long, and he couldn't find it. He couldn't concentrate enough to figure out where he was. All he needed was thirty seconds of silence to figure his shit out and start moving in the right direction, but he was never going to get that.

{You still could, you know. Like I said… Just go back and tie him up in pretty silk rope.}

[Pull the spider's mask off and look at his pretty baby face while you tear him apart.]

{Run your knives along his body, opening his smooth skin like tissue paper and watch the blood leak out like cum.}

[You'd like that, wouldn't you?]

{It turns you on, doesn't it?}

"Shut up shut up shut up… Please…" Wade whimpered, stumbling into a wall and coming to a halt, clutching at his head.

{It does.}

[You want to slide your cock through his blood, shove it in while you watch the life drain out of his eyes.]

Wade growled, turning to slam his head into the brick wall as if that could stop the boxes. "No. God, no… Just stop."

{Remember all those plans we made? We were going to set a spider trap. We were going to lure him close until we could pounce. We were going to get our hands on that sweet, sweet ass and we were going to ravage him.}

[He's sixteen, Wade. Sixteen.]

Wade groaned, a low, broken sound, and started running again. He just had to get away. He had to get somewhere.

{You're such a fucking monster.}

[How could you ever think a sweet, innocent boy like that would want you?]

{He'd never want you. You were just deluding yourself.}

[You were too, Yellow.]

{That's not the point. We're going after Wade, here.}

[Right.]

{He's a _child_ , and you wanted him in your bed.}

[You wanted him on the rooftop.]

{You wanted him every which way and as filthy as possible.}

[He would never want that. He's young, and good.]

{You were going to rape him.}

"No." Wade snapped, his voice rough. "Never. I wasn't going to…"

[You were. You wanted to.]

{And so much more. Remember that pretty image of spider-bits all over the walls? Spidey strapped down, squirming and screaming, that lithe body soaked in blood? You wanted that.}

[You still do.]

{You're disgusting.}

Wade slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it, panting hard. Somehow he'd found his way to a safe house. It was barren and dark and cold, but at least he wasn't out on the street anymore.

[All those dirty comments you made… The boy was probably revolted.]

{You made him sick. He wanted to get away from your perverted advances but you just kept following him like a fucking tiger stalking its prey. You scared him.}

[No… No, he wasn't scared of you. You're too pathetic for that. He _pitied_ you. That's why he let you stick around so long.]

"Stop…" Wade gasped, sliding down the door to the floor and cradling his head in his hands. "He didn't… I… I made him smile…"

{Just pity. He was just being nice to a miserable, damaged, ugly fuck-up.}

[That's what he does. He's a hero, remember?]

{And you… You're just a snake. A disgusting, low-life monster. He'd never like you.}

[You don't deserve him.]

"I never did." Wade breathed, jerking the mask up over his mouth so he could suck more air into his aching lungs.

{Lusting after a little boy like some lecherous old man. You shouldn't be allowed to breath air on the same earth as that kid.}

[You shouldn't be allowed to breath at all. You don't deserve it. You fucking monster. All you do is hurt people.]

"I know… I know." Wade ran his hands over his face, hardly noticing the wetness dripping from under his mask, running in rivulets over his scarred cheeks.

{You thought only killing bad guys would make it okay, but it doesn't. What you are can never be okay.}

[You're a killer. It's all you do. You crave it. You crave the blood and the screams. You want to hurt people. You like it. It _gets you off_.]

{You wanted to kill Spider-Man.}

[You wanted to torture him.]

{You wanted to fuck him.}

[A kid.]

Wade let out a broken sob. His favorite gun was cradled in his hand and he wasn't sure how it got there. It didn't matter.

{A sweet, good, innocent kid.}

[You're a monster.]

{You don't deserve to live.}

[You should die.]

{Spare the world your plague.}

[At least for a while.]

Wade raised the barrel to his temple, his hands shaking slightly as he choked back more tears.

{Go on. Do it.}

[Spider-Man won't, even though he wants to. He's too good. Too kind.]

{Do it for him. Do something right, for once.}

Wade knew he should do it. He wished it would last for Spider-Man. He wished that this time he wouldn't come back. Everyone would be better off that way.

In the end, he didn't do it for the kid. He did it for himself. He did it to have five minutes of empty, blissful nothingness.

The gun jumped in his hand, the sound shattering his eardrum before the bullet blew through his brain, slicing through it like a knife through rice pudding.

[See you soon…] White's voice faded away with everything else.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Darkness. Silence.

Britney Spears singing Oops!… I Did It Again.

Another unicorn. Some teletubbies. A disturbing interaction between the two.

A dim light behind his eyelids. The faint sound of traffic from outside. A hard floor beneath his awkwardly slumped body. A sticky mess inside his mask.

[Well. That was - ]

Wade didn't let White get more than three words out before he shot himself in the head again.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next day, Wade found enough energy to replace his mask with one that wasn't caked in blood and didn't have fifty bullet holes in it.

[I think last night was a bit excessive.] White was bitter. It almost sounded like he was pouting, but Wade ignored him as he left the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

{I thought it was fun!}

[You like disappearing for hours on end?]

{Oh, you meant that part. I meant the other part.}

"The part where you tortured me until I literally put a bullet in my brain just to shut you up." Wade muttered, making his way down the stairs and out onto the street. The sun had risen at some point.

{Yeah, that part!}

[Still. Fifty-seven times is excessive.]

{How did you keep count?}

[I just did.]

{How?}

[I have my ways.]

{But how?}

[…Shut up.]

Wade passed a stand selling New York apparel and easily snatched a sweatshirt from the pile without being noticed, which was impressive since he was a six-foot two-inch man in a red skin-tight suit with swords strapped to his back. But hey, you see all kinds of shit in New York.

He rounded a corner and pulled the sweatshirt over his head, glancing down to see simple black fabric with the iconic "I 3 NY" design on the front. He pulled the hood up over his head. He had his mask on, but at least this way he was a little less conspicuous. Even if his swords made suspicious lumps beneath the fabric on the top of his shoulders.

{Where are we going?}

[Saint Margaret's.]

{How do you know?}

[Yellow. We are _in his head_.]

{Oh. Right.}

Wade got to the familiar dump of a bar half an hour later, having tried, and failed, not to think about Spider-Man the whole way there. He kicked the door open with a bang, not bothering to notice that he'd broken the lock on his way in, and stalked over to the bar to throw himself onto one of the cracked stools.

"We're closed, asshole." Weasel shouted from the back, and Wade heard the distinctive crack of a rifle being cocked. He ignored the bartender, reaching over the bar to grab a bottle of the most expensive whisky. He threw off his hood, which had gotten a little hot on the walk over, and rolled his mask up to his nose with one hand, then took a swig from the bottle.

{Aw, poor Wadey… Don't you remember you can't get drunk?}

[Of course he remembers. He's not a complete idiot like you are.]

"Thanks." Wade mumbled, taking another generous drink from the dusty bottle. It burned on the way down. Good.

"You better be prepared to take a bullet, buddy, because I'm not-" Weasel rounded the corner, and when he saw that it was Wade sitting at the bar, he slumped in relief. "What the fuck, man? What're you doing here so early?" He set the rifle down on the counter and reached out to snatch the bottle from the mercenary.

"What time is it?" Wade asked, accepting the bottle of cheaper liquor that Weasel handed him instead.

"It's like nine-thirty, dude." The bartended grinned as he got a glass out and poured himself a drink from the expensive bottle. "Rough night?"

{The roughest.} Yellow purred.

[Dude. It wasn't fun for us, either.]

"Something like that." Wade raised his bottle to his lips and chugged a quarter of it. It was quite futile but he always tried anyway.

"Come on." Weasel patted the bar between them. "Talk to your gal pal. What's got your pretty pink panties in a twist?"

Wade sighed, staring at the label on the bottle. "Spider-Man." He said simply.

Weasel groaned. "Oh no… Don't tell me. I take it back. I don't wanna hear any more of your fantasies. You're obsessed, man. I mean, for the past two weeks all I've heard is Spider-Man this and Spider-Man that. Just fuck the guy already. For fuck's sake!"

{That's what I said.}

Wade grunted. "He's a kid."

Weasel made a face. "Uh… What?"

"I found out he's just a kid."

"Oh… Okay. Alright." Weasel nodded slowly, his eyebrows raised over his glasses. "Well that adds a whole new level of freaky." He raised his own glass to his lips to take a sip, like he was stalling to think of something else to say. "How old is he, then? Cause in the videos he seems… You know. Full grown."

{And with the ass of a Greek fucking god.}

[An underage ass.] White reminded, always the wet noodle at every party.

Wade pursed his lips bitterly. "Sixteen." He choked out.

There was a moment of silence. Then Weasel laughed. "Oh… Ha… God, Wade. You had me freaking out for a minute there. I thought you had some Lolita shit going on, you know?"

Wade frowned, staring at his friend in disbelief. "It's not funny." He growled. Weasel, of all people, knew that. It was to him that Wade had been coming for the past two weeks, spouting off all the dirty things he wanted to do to Spidey.

{Yeah, that's right… And he means _dirty_.}

"Yeah, okay. It's like illegal, or whatever. Barely. But he's not a _kid_ , Wade. I'm pretty sure sixteen is past the cutoff for pedophilia."

Wade scoffed. "Right. Because that's the standard I want to be holding myself to. Does this make me a pedophile? No? Okay, great. All engines are a go."

{Seems fine to me.}

[You don't have the best moral compass, Yellow.]

{Oh, and you do?}

[Touché.]

Weasel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. If you wanna do the whole poor me pity party thing, knock yourself out. Be my guest. Mi casa es su… Whatever. But it's really not that big a deal." He downed the rest of his drink before slamming the glass down on the bar. "I mean, you didn't actually fuck him, did you?"

Wade shook his head.

"Then no harm no foul. And besides…" Weasel snickered. "Sixteen is practically grown as far as I'm concerned. I mean, you should see some of the hookers I've-"

Wade cut him off with a growl, his left hand snapping up to grip Weasel by the throat. "Do _not_ finish that sentence." He warned, his tone dark and threatening. "Spider-Man is not some cheap _whore_."

[No. I'm sure he'd be very expensive.]

Wade shook his head violently, wishing he could reach in and grab White by the throat, too. Too bad it didn't work that way. He let go of Weasel, who coughed and raised his hands to rub peevishly at his neck, and raised the bottle to his scarred lips again.

"Jesus fuck, man… Calm the fuck down." The bartender muttered spitefully, going to fill his glass with water at the tap. "I knew you had a crush, but fuck… You're a bit overprotective of some kid you're _not_ sleeping with."

Wade heaved a sigh and rubbed tiredly at his eyes through the mask. You'd think being dead for most of the night would leave a guy well rested, but apparently that wasn't how it worked. In Wade's humble opinion, the way things worked should fuck off and change.

[He's right, you know. You shouldn't care so much about some kid you just met two weeks ago.]

{Aw, but… It's Spidey! He's so badass. And pretty. And he's nice to us.}

"Only out of pity." Wade hissed. "We established that last night, remember?"

{Well… Maybe we were just saying that to be mean.}

[I wasn't.]

"Talkin' to yourself again, Wilson?" Weasel had come back into arm's reach, knowing Wade well enough to trust that he wouldn't go full-frontal-freak-out like that again. Or at least, that he wouldn't actually hurt Weasel if he did.

"What's new, honey buns?" Wade shot back wearily. He finally gave in and peeled the mask off, tossing it onto the bar as he took a deep breath, finally free of the smothering material.

Weasel made a small retching noise in the back of his throat as he watched, his lip curling up in disgust. "Christ, Wade. I never fucking get used to that."

{See? Not even Weasel likes your hideous face.}

Wade sneered. "Yeah, well at least I don't have to look at your fugly mug in the mirror every morning. I think I might kill myself. Seriously, how do you get anyone to fuck you?"

Weasel chuckled. "Pay them, mostly."

"I should have guessed."

"Well at least I don't look like two tomatoes shriveled up and died, and then a cat came along and ate them, and then shat them out, and then the tomato shits had a kid and that's you." Weasel picked up a dirty rag and started wiping the counter, grinning lightly.

[Wow. So eloquent.]

{Great visuals.}

Wade grinned back. "At least I don't look like an albino snake had sex with a mongoose and their love child fucked your mom while she was high on shrooms and when you were born she thought you were a squirrel so she tried to crush your head with a pitcher of margaritas but she missed and you fell out of a window instead and you landed in a dumpster full of old socks and pickles and when they pulled you out you had a permanent smell so they dunked you in Lysol but it didn't work so your mom kept you in drawer and only let you out to feed you acorns and bits of grass."

Weasel stared at him in silence for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "Too far, man. Too. Far."

{No! Not far enough!}

Wade shrugged. "When should I have stopped?"

"The beginning. Like, before you said the first word."

Wade nodded seriously. "Okay. I'll take that into consideration next time."

Weasel hummed his approval and went back to rubbing unsuccessfully at spots on the counter.

Wade stared down at the liquor bottle again. "You gave me diluted vodka?" He gasped, outraged. "What the actual fuck, Weasel!"

[That bastard.]

{I knew you should have killed this degenerate years ago. Didn't I tell you to kill him?}

[You tell Wade to kill everyone.]

{Well, he should listen to me more often.}

The bartender just scoffed. "You can't get drunk, Wade. I don't need to waste my alcohol on you. Besides, you never pay me, anyways."

Now it was Wade's turn to scoff dramatically. "I do too pay you. You damn well know that I bag more hits than any other asshole in this joint. And you get your cut, don't think I don't know."

Weasel sniffed disdainfully. "Doesn't mean I need you drinking half my liquor in one sitting."

Wade rolled his eyes, but let it go. He took a half-hearted swig from the bottle before setting it down on the bar with unnecessary force.

Weasel was filling his own glass with normal, fully alcoholic vodka, followed by a splash of cranberry.

[Hasn't anyone ever told you not to drink at nine-thirty in the morning?]

{Hasn't anyone ever told you you're an incessant prick?}

"Heard from Al recently?" Weasel asked as he took a dainty sip of his cocktail.

Wade shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." He hadn't really been keeping up with his messages. Several dozen safe houses and most of them had phones; some of _those_ even had answering machines. "Last time I saw her she was bumming it in some nursing home in Queens."

Weasel chuckled. "Is Blind Al finally losing her shit? She gone 'round the bend? Does she need someone to change her adult diapers?"

Wade shook his head. "Nah, I think she just likes it there."

Weasel let out a low whistle. "Jeez… She enjoys living in a depressing hellhole for the decrepit and dying. Guess living with you must have really been a special kind of horrible."

Wade snorted. "I'll have you know that _I_ kicked _her_ out."

[No you didn't.]

{He didn't?}

[No. She got mad after Wade hid her dentures around the apartment and she split.]

{Oh yeah…} Yellow giggled. {We hid each tooth separately.}

"That's not _why_ …" Wade mumbled. "That was just the needle that broke the camel's back."

[Straw.]

"Whatever." Wade slid the half-empty bottle from hand to hand, staring down at it sullenly. It didn't matter why she left. She left, and Wade tried not to think about it. He'd been doing a good job of that, especially with Spidey as a distraction.

[Great… Now we're thinking about the itsy spider again.]

{I think he's pretty.}

[Have you not been paying attention since chapter two?]

Yellow gasped. {You broke the wall! You broke the wall! That's my job, bitch!}

Wade let out a quiet groan, utterly sick of the boxes. "Shut up." He muttered without much hope of anything changing. He could usually tolerate their chattering, but he just felt way too tired for their shit today.

Weasel ignored the mercenary's muttering, as he usually did, and leaned down to rest his elbows on the bar. "Wade."

His tone of voice caught Wade's attention immediately, and he looked up at the bartender, forcing himself to focus.

"I've been hearing some things lately."

[That's ominous.]

Wade frowned, the serious look in his friend's usually mirthful eyes making him nervous. "What kind of things?"

Weasel sighed and raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck, as if he were especially stressed and tense. "Bad things, man. Bad for you. I wasn't sure I should bring it up, and now seems like an especially shitty time, but… The rumors are getting louder."

Wade's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as a knot formed in his stomach. "What. Things." He repeated, voice low and dangerous.

{Don't tell us Spider-Man's dead!}

[Ugh, shut up, you idiot. We know what this must be about.]

{Weapon X.} Yellow's voice was weak and quiet, and just the name made Wade want to shudder.

"Weapon X." Weasel watched him carefully, as if unsure about how he would react to the news. When Wade said nothing and made no move, Weasel continued. "They're not exactly back, but… Someone else has taken an interest. Taken up the mantel, if you will."

Wade's jaw was clenched so tightly he thought he might crack a tooth. It took some effort to speak, carefully uncurling his fists on the countertop. "Who?"

{Francis.} Yellow hissed. {That fucking snake.}

[We killed him.] White's voice was reassuring for once, rather than mocking. [We killed him good.]

Weasel shook his head. "Don't know. I don't think anyone knows, yet. There's just been some people… Anonymous fucks poking their noses in old shit, trying to pick up a scent."

Wade let out a huff of air, not having realized he'd been holding his breath. "They won't find shit worth smelling." He'd burned it. Burned it all. And what he hadn't burned the first time he'd tracked down and obliterated along with every soul that had anything to do with that wretched organization.

Weasel swallowed, and shook his head again. "That's the thing…"

Wade froze.

"They, um…" Weasel shifted uncomfortably behind the bar. "People are saying… Well, it looks like… Like they have data. Lots of it. Somehow… Something must have slipped by. Some backup somewhere."

Wade averted his gaze from the anxious bartender and forced himself to pick up the bottle without shattering it. He took a long drink. This shit didn't even burn so it was hardly worth it, but he went through the motions anyway. After he slammed the bottle back onto the bar and wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, he cleared his throat.

"Alright."

Weasel stared. "Alright?" He repeated, incredulous.

{That's _it_?}

[I'm actually gonna have to agree with Yellow here. Alright? That's _IT_?]

{We need to hunt them down.}

[We need to make them bleed.]

{Make them scream.}

[Burn.]

[{DIE.}]

Wade stared out of the bar's grimy front windows, his gaze cold and distant. "Yes. Alright." He spoke to both Weasel and the boxes, voice even and calm. "I'll kill them all."

{Hell.}

[Yes.]

"In the meantime…" Wade slapped his right hand onto the counter, palm down. "Give me a name."

Weasel grinned.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"We can fight our desires."

{Ooh, Ooh…}

"But when we start making fires…"

{We get ever so hot…}

[Whether we like it or not.]

Wade tapped his foot and nodded along to the music in his head, enjoying their little sing along as he stared through the scope on his sniper rifle. Singing kept his head empty, and it distracted the voices (a wonderful perk all on its own). He kept up with some humming while he cased the joint across the street, deciding on his next move.

This mark had a bit of security, which was why Wade was currently laying on a roof after nightfall, looking through his sights into the expensive Midtown apartment across the way, rather than slaughtering someone with his bare hands already. It would be simple enough just to wait for his guy to walk near the window and shoot him from here, but Wade wasn't feeling particularly patient. If he tapped into the residual vestiges of his military discipline, he could probably do it, but he didn't want to. And Deadpool tries to only do what Deadpool wants to do. It's kind of a life philosophy.

So after ascertaining that the target was home (watching television in the bedroom, to be exact), and that there didn't seem to be alarms on the window (it was on the twenty-first floor, after all), Wade packed up his rifle with quick and easy movements, tucking it back into his weapons bag and pulling out a grapple gun.

He shot it at the building across the way, where the grappling hook lodged into the brick just above the mark's window, and secured his end of the line. Then he pulled out a Deadpool hook, custom made, and latched it over the grappling line, taking hold of it on both sides.

"I'm going in for the kill!" He sang out, pushing himself off the edge of the building with a climactic swell of music in his mind.

{I'm doing it for a thrill!}

Wade zipped down the line, his feet dangling over the street far, far below.

[Oh, I'm hoping you'll understand…]

He burst through the window with a resounding crash and an inward explosion of shattering glass.

"And not let go of my hand." Wade never stopped moving. He released the hook and landed on his feet, the powdered glass crunching beneath his boots. He ran further into the apartment, not wasting momentum, and gracefully ducked into a doorway he knew led to the kitchen. He drew several throwing knives from his belt, holding them between his fingers on both hands.

He could hear the target moving in the other room, no doubt getting up to come see what had happened.

{Oh, I just love this part!} Yellow let out a giddy squeal.

A young man, in his early thirties, came barreling out of the bedroom with a baseball bat clutched in his hands. Wade chuckled darkly, a knife flicking from his fingers to imbed itself in the man's left bicep before he came more than four steps into the room. He screamed in pain and surprise, not having caught sight of Deadpool yet, and dropped the bat. It hit the ground with a hollow clatter.

Wade stepped out from the shadows, grinning beneath his mask. "You've been a naughty, naughty boy!" He waggled one index finger at the man, a Mr. Jackson McCabe, and shook his head, scolding.

Mr. McCabe clutched at his arm, and his eyes were wide and terrified when he looked at Deadpool. "W-What? I don't… I've got money. I've got- I can pay you whatever you want."

Wade just laughed and continued shaking his head. "I can be bought, Mr. McCabe, but I can't be bribed!"

{What's the difference?}

[It's… subtle. You wouldn't understand.]

"Besides!" Wade began twirling a knife in his right hand, the other knives held conspicuously in his left, and advanced slowly towards the target. "Like I said; you've been very, _very_ naughty. I think Daddy needs to teach you a lesson."

Jackson McCabe turned and tried to run. Wade had no idea where this guy thought he was going, because really. Did this seem like a situation you could escape from? No. But they always tried anyways. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." He muttered, and threw another knife. This one found its home in the back of the man's right leg, and he fell with another scream.

[Good thing his neighbors aren't home.]

{Too bad we don't kill the police!} Yellow countered cheerfully.

Wade walked towards Mr. McCabe, his pace leisurely. "What shall we do with you, hm? What shall we do with a thieving con artist like you?"

{Let's play with him! Please, oh please!}

Deadpool stopped at Jackson's feet, flipping another ready knife in his hand. The man rolled over onto his back, now clutching at his injured leg, and stared up at Wade. He was shaking, his chest heaving, breath coming out in little terrified gasps, and Wade could already see the sweat beading on his forehead.

Wade smiled.

He bent down and grabbed Mr. McCabe by the arms, earning a startled yelp from the man as he dragged him up and pushed him into a nearby chair. He stepped back and pointed with his knife. "Don't. Move." He ordered.

Wade found a small table lamp, unplugged it from the wall, and returned to tie Jackson's wrists to the chair with the cord. "Don't wanna waste my pretty pink handcuffs on you!" He admitted cheerfully. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. "Now. Where should we start?"

[The eyes.] White hissed.

{The face! Cut his face!}

Wade tut-tutted at the boxes' suggestions. "So vicious. Why don't we start off slow, hm?" He drew one of his katanas and pointed it at his mark, eyes trailing down the man's trembling body.

"P-Please! Please, stop, please! I'll… Whatever you want, I'll give you anything! Please, just, stop. Please!" The man was a blubbering mess, and Wade rolled his eyes. He never had much patience for the criers.

"I haven't even started yet!" He exclaimed, exasperation leaking into his tone. He stepped forward to rest the razor-sharp blade against Jackson's side. The man flinched away, but couldn't avoid the slow, lingering kiss of the sword.

He screamed again as the metal bit through his shirt and into his skin. "Please! Oh god, please! Please stop please oh god…"

{Music to our ears.}

[He really is a crybaby, isn't he?]

Wade went for a thigh next. Then a hand. Finally a cheek. Jackson McCabe was sobbing as the blood dripped down his face. Wade let the cries wash over him, blanketing him in the warm embrace of pain and suffering.

He started humming again as he sheathed his katana and reached out to dig his fingers into the man's opened thigh, earning another strangled scream. The blood was hot, even through his gloves.

"Come and take a walk on the wild side." He sang, grabbing Jackson's face to force the man to look at him while he dug around in his leg.

{Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain!}

[You like your girls insane.]

Wade leaned in until his victim's ragged breath was ghosting over his mask, planting one knee between the man's thighs. "Choose your last words."

The sobbing and shaking and begging began anew as Deadpool pressed a small knife to his target's throat.

{This is the last time.}

"{[Cause you and I, we were born to die.]}"

Wade swept the knife across delicate paper skin, slashing it open and releasing the torrent of sweet red blood. It spilled across Deadpool's suit, darkening the red as Jackson McCabe choked and twitched, and Wade watched the life leak from his eyes.

He stayed there for a while even as his target grew cold and still. The boxes were blissfully silent, satiated for once, and he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

[We should go before the police come.]

Well, it couldn't last forever.

{Yeah, since you refuse to kill them…} Yellow sounded slightly bitter.

Wade pushed away from his victim with a sigh, moving back to the gaping window to cut his line so no one else could use it. He exited through the front door and took the stairs down to the street. He passed an old lady on the steps, a doorman and a security guard in the lobby, but none of them commented on his outfit, his weapons, or the fact that he was covered in blood. Good old New York.

Wade walked blatantly down the street, humming under his breath. He always felt better after a hit.

[Where to now, boss?]

{I'm hungry!}

They were only a few blocks from Times Square, where Wade's second favorite taco stand in the city resided, so he headed that way.

They were half a block away when Wade noticed something strange. The crowd of people clogging the sidewalks was rushing away from the square, a stark contrast to the usual steady stream into tourist central. When he paid closer attention, he could see fear on their faces, and urgency in their steps. Something was happening in Times Square. "Huh."

[Bomb scare?] White guessed practically.

{Giant octopus?}

"I'm voting for the octopus!" Wade pushed his way through the river of people until he could round the corner and see what was going on in the brightly lit, neon world of the square.

At first, he couldn't see anything. It just looked strangely empty. But then a flash of light like what you would see from a grenade drew his attention.

"Well, that's new." Wade watched with interest as a figure in a green suit zipped around the square on some sort of hover-sled. The green guy was dropping little orange bombs, which released flashes of light and clouds of some sort of opaque gas when they landed. The few people left on the street were coughing and collapsing, clearly hurt by whatever sort of gas it was. There were a few lonely screams in the night air.

{What is this guy, a scary Robin Hood?}

"Don't think so." Wade drew his katanas, considering how best to go about attacking this new villain. "Unless Robin Hood stole from the weapons depot and killed the poor."

[Green Lantern?]

{Wrong universe. Hey! Quit stealing my shtick!}

[Oh, yeah. Ryan Reynolds makes a way better Deadpool anyway.]

{I hate you.}

Wade had worked out a plan of attack, and was just stepping forward to implement it when a familiar blur of red and blue stopped him in his tracks. Spider-Man swung down from a nearby building, landing in the middle of the square.

"Well, shit." It was probably better if Spidey handled this, anyway. Deadpool wasn't a hero. He didn't want people getting the wrong idea about him, right?

[Let's go.]

{No! I want to see Spidey kick this guy's ass!}

[We don't need to be here. Let's _go_.]

Wade sheathed his katanas and hopped onto the hood of a nearby parked car to enjoy the show.

[You never listen to me.] White grumbled.

The green guy paused his incessant buzzing around to come hover in front of Spider-Man, several feet above him.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Wade could hear Spidey ask. "Robin Hood?"

{I said that! I said that! We're twins!}

The green thing grinned, and it laughed. The sound was maniacal and unnatural, making Wade's skin prickle with unease. "No, puny spider. I'm the Green Goblin. I'm here to… shake things up." The goblin's voice was chilling and unnatural as well, as if it were being run through some sort of voice-processing mechanism.

"Don't shake too hard." Said the spider. "You might hurt yourself." And he shot a web, catching the Green Goblin's arm.

Wade smiled. But before Spidey could pull the man from the air, the goblin reached over to grasp the web strand with his other hand. Wade saw electricity crackle and shoot down the line, and Spider-Man let out a startled yell as something on his wrist spat sparks, fizzled, and died. A small inkling of fear planted itself in Wade's chest.

Spider-Man disconnected the web in an instant and flipped out of the way as the Green Goblin threw some sort of throwing blade at him. He landed in a crouch on top of a food truck. "Hey, Mr. Goblin!" He rolled away as another blade was thrown. "I'm kind of having a really shitty weekend. Think maybe we could wrap this up quickly?" He shot another web, which the green guy dodged.

"My pleasure." Purred the goblin, and Wade's stomach sank. The Green Goblin flew forward with impossible speed, heading straight for Spider-Man. Spidey started to leap out of the way, but the goblin was too fast. He grabbed the red and blue hero by his throat and lifted him into the air, flying away with the spider dangling from his hand.

Wade leapt to his feet, his heart skipping a beat. "Fuck." He cursed, eyes glued to the pair as they rose higher and higher over the square. He drew his guns, but he couldn't shoot for fear of hitting Spidey. This guy was too fast… He could shift their position in the instant it took Wade to pull the trigger.

He watched them struggle, and for a moment the goblin's sled thing dipped a few feet, but he recovered. Then he dropped Spider-Man.

Wade's heart stopped.

Spidey plummeted through the air for a moment before shooting a web from one arm and halting his fall by swinging clumsily to a giant lit-up billboard.

The goblin was laughing again, zipping around the square. He paused to hover across from the giant Forever 21, where two girls were trying to slip out of the store and run away unnoticed.

The police had arrived by this point, and their cars surrounded the square, acting as barricades for those coward cops to hide behind. The Green Goblin turned his hover-sled slightly and fired a rocket from the front. It sailed through the air with a sharp whistle and exploded into the side of an armored NYPD truck, flipping the vehicle up into the air. Wade started to run forward, but he knew it would be too late. The truck was going to land on those girls.

They screamed and ducked, and at the last moment the truck stopped, just feet from their pretty little heads.

Spider-Man was still on the billboard, feet braced against the edge and both hands clutching one thin web. He was _holding up the truck_.

Wade couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he didn't stop. He rushed to the girls and ushered them out from under the truck, shouting hoarsely. "Come on come on come on! Get out!"

Just as they were skittering out, clutching at each other, the truck jolted. Wade put a hand out as if he could stop it from falling, but he knew he wasn't nearly strong enough to do so.

{Not like Spidey. Jesus fuck that kid is amazing.}

Once both tweens were safely running towards their precious police, the webbing snapped and the truck fell to the concrete with a crash of shattering glass and twisting metal. Wade looked up at Spidey, his heart pounding, only to watch as the young hero swayed on the edge, and fell.

"Oh fuck." Wade darted forward and caught Spider-Man clumsily in his arms, his blood running cold when he saw the bat-shaped throwing disc lodged deep under his left ribs.

{Batman?} Yellow gasped, mortified.

[No, you idiot. This Green Goblin thing has a Halloween theme going on.]

{Oh, shit.}

Wade grunted as he felt a blade suddenly lodge in his shoulder, sharp and painful. But he was used to pain. He lay Spidey down on the pavement, his chest tightening as the boy's head lolled to one side, and spun around.

He fired round after round at the Green Goblin, not stopping until the villain had turned tail and flew away, disappearing into the night.

Wade tore the throwing disc from his shoulder and dropped it to the ground with a clatter, turning to sweep Spidey back into his arms.

{Gentle, gentle!}

"I know." He turned and started running, dodging around a police car to get out of the square. No on stopped him.

[What the hell are you doing?] White hissed, voice panicky.

Wade didn't answer. He didn't have to. White knew they had a safe house just a block and a half away. Even Yellow would remember, because they'd just moved into this one two days ago. He glanced down at Spidey as he darted down the correct street. The boy seemed to be unconscious. Wade didn't remove the blade yet; he didn't have anything to pack the wound and he'd fucking kill himself for good if he let Spidey bleed out in his arms.

[You. Can't. Die.]

"I'd find a way." Wade muttered, kicking the door to his building open and taking the stairs two at a time.

{Hurry!}

He kicked the door to his apartment open too, breaking the flimsy lock and the chain to boot (he'd left through the window yesterday - Spidey style). He rushed to his couch and carefully lay Spider-Man down, thankful that he hadn't had time to spill anything gross on the furniture yet. "Hold on." He said to the unconscious boy. "Just hold on, okay? Deadpool's gonna take care of you."

He dashed to the bathroom and rummaged desperately through whatever he kept under the sink and in the medicine cabinet. There wasn't much. He huffed out a breath of relief when he found a first-aid kit. He didn't usually keep medical shit lying around, because he didn't need it himself. It was nothing short of a miracle that he happened to have supplies here.

{Maybe the writers just needed an easy fix. This is some real deus ex machina shit right here.}

[Not. The time.]

{Oh right, right. Spidey needs us. Hurry up!}

Wade heard a low moan from the living room and his breath caught in his throat. He rushed out to find Spider-Man trying to sit up on his couch, a hand clutched to the blade still protruding from his side. Wade hurried to press a gentle hand to Spidey's chest, forcing him to lie back. "No, no. It's okay, it's okay. Just stay still, I'm gonna get this thing out of you, okay?"

Something Wade said must have calmed Spidey down, because he allowed himself to be pushed back into the couch and he lay still, panting heavily through his mask. "Wha… Where am I?"

"Casa de Deadpool." Wade said, trying to keep his tone light as he pulled padding, bandages, alcohol, medical thread, and a needle from the first-aid kit, setting them all out on the coffee table. "You got shish-kabobbed by Robin Hood. But don't you fret, little spider. Dr. Deadpool will fix you right up!"

A soft whimper from the couch made Wade's heart clench, and his movements became slightly frantic as he tore the bandages and wound padding from their packages so they would be ready to use. He grabbed for the needle and thread, pausing only to rip his gloves off so that he could prepare the needle more quickly and efficiently.

{He'll see our skin.}

[He'll think we're disgusting. If he doesn't already.]

"It won't matter what he thinks if he's dead." Wade muttered under his breath, concentrating on threading the needle.

Spidey coughed weakly and Wade spun around, bringing the alcohol and padding with him. "The… Green Goblin." Spider-Man's voice was shaky. Wade leaned in to take a closer look at the blade, which was more than half-way inside the boy's abdomen. The edges were jagged, in the shape of bat wings. It was going to be a bitch to take out. "He… Didn't turn me into… A frog, did he?"

Wade's head whipped up to stare at Spidey's mask, overtaken by concern. Was Spider-Man fading so fast that he'd stopped making sense? Had he hit his head somehow when he fell?

[It's a joke, idiot.]

{And not a very good one.}

Wade's eyes widened. "Oh." He let out a startled laugh, which sounded more anxious than amused. "No, Baby Boy. Don't worry. No frogs here. Just spiders."

He refocused his attention on the wound, noticing that Spidey's breath seemed to hitch slightly. He'd have to hurry. "Okay, Spidey. This is gonna hurt, but I need you to stay with me, alright? Just stay focused on me." He lay his hands gently on either side of the wound, and Spider-Man flinched as a trickle of blood leaked out. "You should probably hold on to something."

"Okay." Spidey's response was hardly more than a whisper, but he listened to Wade and braced one hand against the back of the couch, his other hand coming to rest on Wade's shoulder, fingers clutching lightly at his suit. Wade suppressed a shiver. He needed to focus.

{Don't screw this up.} Yellow whispered. Even the boxes were keeping quiet.

"Okay." He carefully wrapped one hand around the edge of the blade, making sure his grip was solid even as the sharp edges cut into his skin, and held Spidey's hip down with his other hand. "Take a deep breath." Spider-Man sucked in a breath of air. Wade yanked the blade out.

Spider-Man screamed. The sound made Wade cringe, and he was quick to press a cotton pad over the gash, which had immediately begun leaking blood at an alarming rate. Wade hissed as the bones in his shoulder creaked under Spidey's clenching grip, but he didn't allow it to distract him. The couch didn't fare so well. Wade heard wood snap and the back of the couch was suddenly misshapen.

"It's okay, Spidey. It's okay." Wade mindlessly tried to soothe the injured hero, keeping the pressure on the wound so that it might start clotting a little. "I know it hurts. Just hold on, okay? Now that we got that thing out, your healing factor can start working. If you have one of those."

Spider-Man was breathing hard, in short little gasps, but his grip on Wade's shoulder loosened and he managed to hold still. "Not… Like yours…" He said through gritted teeth.

Wade chuckled half-heartedly. "Of course not, Baby Boy. I'm a fucking rainbow unicorn. But regardless, you'll be able to start healing now." Wade lifted the pad slightly to peek at the gash. Another trickle of blood leaked out, still too heavy for Wade's liking, and the pad was almost soaked through. He hoped to the gods there wasn't any internal bleeding. He swallowed. "Don't worry, okay? But I'm gonna have to stitch this baby up."

Spidey nodded weakly. "Okay."

Wade reached over for the threaded needle, keeping one hand on the wound, and stuck the needle between his teeth for easy access. "Okay." He spoke around the needle, glancing up at Spider-Man's mask. "I'll need to disinfect the cut, then I can sew you up. It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but I know you can handle it. Just hold on to me." He could break Wade's shoulder if he wanted; it was his left and that wouldn't stop him from working a needle and thread.

He waited until Spidey nodded again, a little more shakily this time, then focused his attention on the wound. He tore the pad off and tossed it aside, immediately grasping the edges of the suit and trying to pull them apart so he'd have better access. The damn fabric wouldn't rip, no matter how hard he tried, and Wade felt panic crawling up his throat as more precious spider blood leaked out. Suddenly, Spidey knocked his hands aside and reached down to lift the suit up at the waist. It peeled upwards like a shirt, leaving him bare from his hip to his ribs, and Wade was suddenly staring at pale, smooth skin stretched over lean, hard muscle, marred only by the fresh blood leaking from the cut.

[Not the time not the time!]

{I always though his suit was a onesie. Like footy pajamas.}

[Shut up, Yellow!]

Wade snapped out of it and reached for the alcohol, twisting the cap off in a hurry. "Take a breath." He ordered, then doused the wound in the clear liquid.

Spider-Man whined and twisted, his hand crushing Wade's shoulder in a vice-like grip. Wade pressed one hand down on Spidey's bare hip to keep him still, ignoring the shock that ran through him like electricity as their skin touched.

{Oh fuck. We're touching him.}

[Shut. The fuck. Up.]

Wade carefully took the needle from his teeth and held it in his right hand. "I'm gonna stitch you up now. Try to hold still."

Spidey nodded.

Before Wade could start, he heard a loud thumping coming up the stairs outside of his apartment. He paused, suddenly getting a very bad feeling. Call it his Deadpool-Sense.

[No. Doesn't work.]

{It doesn't have the same ring to it.}

He made a snap decision and set the needle aside. He grabbed a clean wound pad and pressed it to the leaking gash. He took Spidey's hand from his shoulder and pressed it over the pad. "Hold this here." He ordered. "And don't move. I'll be right back."

All of a sudden, the door burst open with a loud bang, rebounding off the wall on the other side. Wade stepped instantly between Spider-Man and the door, drawing fresh guns from his belt. There, outside Deadpool's door, stood a giant metal robot guy in gold and red.

"Tin Man!" He greeted, raising his guns to point at the thing's head, even though he knew they would be completely ineffective. "What brings you round here to my humble abode?"

Iron Man stepped forward, and Wade backed up, keeping pace and remaining between he and Spidey, his stance protective. "Where's Spider-Man?" Iron Man's mechanical voice was accusing and quite angry. "What have you done to him?"

{How did he know the spider was here?}

[He must have a tracker in the kid's suit.]

{Dick-eating bastard.}

"I'm saving him, idiot. I thought all the tin man needs is a heart, but I must have it wrong. You're clearly brainless."

Iron Man raised his right hand, and Wade found himself staring into a circle of glowing death energy. He stood his ground, although he knew one blast from Tony Stark's arc reactor would melt a hole right through his head. And not a small hole, either.

A weak sound from behind Wade made his fists clench tighter around his guns. "You should-"

Iron Man didn't let Wade finish telling him to get the hell out. He turned his hand away and dealt the mercenary a vicious back-handed blow, knocking him aside so he could stride over to the couch.

Wade grunted, picking himself up from the floor and aiming his guns at Iron Man again. But he didn't want any bullets ricocheting off that armor.

[We don't have time for this shit.]

"M-Mr. Stark." Spidey was trying to sit up. Wade crossed the room in an instant to stand protectively over the back of the couch.

"What the hell happened to you, kid? Never mind. We need to get you to a doctor." Iron Man reached for Spidey, and Wade extended one arm to press a halting hand against the hero's metal chest, right above that glowing reactor.

"I don't think so." Wade growled.

Iron Man scoffed. "You think I'm going to leave him here with _you_ , Deadpool? You really are insane."

"Mr. Stark…" Spidey seemed to be protesting, but Wade couldn't stop to try to figure out why right now.

"If you move him, he'll bleed out." Wade hissed, trying to keep his voice low enough that Spidey wouldn't hear him, but he knew he would. The boy had super hearing.

Iron Man paused, but only for a moment. "No, he still has time. I'll take him to my personal medical unit."

Wade frowned. "How do you know?"

He heard a quiet gasp from the couch. "You've been monitoring my health through the suit?" Spider-Man managed to sound indignant even as he shivered, hands both pressed to the wound in his side. "That's a huge invasion of privacy, Mr. Stark."

Iron Man looked abashed. If a giant metal robot suit could look abashed. But he didn't back down. "You really expect me not to do anything when I get a notification that you're mortally wounded? We need to get you to a doctor, kid. You've already lost a lot of blood. If we leave now-"

"No."

Wade turned to stare at Spidey. The boy was staring defiantly up at Iron Man, his masked face set with determination.

A beat passed before Iron Man knocked Wade's hand away. "You can't be serious. You trust an unhinged killer to save your life?"

{Fat midget egotistical sociopath.}

[Asshole.]

Spider-Man never waivered. "He already did."

{Oh. My god. I don't care if he's a kid. I'm in love.}

Wade looked back at Iron Man, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. "Hear that, Tin Man? We don't need you. So why don't you just skidaddle right on out of here?" He plucked the needle from where he'd discarded it on the coffee table and waved it in Iron Man's inscrutable robot face. "Wouldn't want my hand to slip, now would we? Daddy's gonna need to concentrate."

Iron Man looked at Spider-Man for a long, lingering moment. "You sure about this, kid?"

Spidey gave one curt nod.

"Your funeral." Tony Stark muttered, before turning to Deadpool and shoving a vicious finger into his chest. "If you let the kid die, I'm going to put all of my considerable resources into finding a way to _permanently end you_. Got it?"

{Wow. That was almost scary.}

Wade nodded. Iron Man turned and left with loud, heavy footsteps, and he didn't bother to shut the door behind him. "Fucking asshat." Wade stepped to the door and closed it. The locks were busted. "No manners whatsoever, coming in to my home and breaking my shit."

[We did that.]

A quiet gasp followed by a whimper pulled Wade's attention back to Spidey.

{Oh shit. We need to hurry.}

Wade rushed back to the couch. Spidey was leaning back into the cushions and breathing hard. It looked like he'd barely been keeping it together for Tony Stark's benefit. "Sorry, sorry." He sat on the edge and lay his hands over Spidey's, taking over putting pressure on the cut.

"Deadpool." Spidey whimpered again, one hand coming back to its place on Wade's shoulder. Wade felt like he might pass out.

[Not the time.]

"Right. Right, sorry. Okay. Just try to breath, okay? I'm gonna get this stitched up and then we'll be good to go." This pad was soaked through with blood, too. Wade tossed it aside. Fresh blood welled up, trickling away from the gaping gash as Wade adjusted his grip on the needle.

"It's gonna hurt, but I need you to stay still. Okay, Baby Boy?" Another nod. Wade carefully pinched the edges of the cut together, earning a pained hiss from Spider-Man, and slid the needle through the skin. It had been a while since he'd done this, but he still remembered how. He'd had extensive training in trauma medicine in the military, and he'd even had to use it on more than one occasion. Back when he hung out with people he cared to save if they took a bullet to the leg or a knife to the gut. But that was a long time ago now.

Spider-Man endured the procedure with a stubborn strength that Wade couldn't help but admire. He clenched his teeth and didn't let another whimper pass his lips. He held perfectly still. Wade's shoulder only felt like it might break a couple of times.

When Wade was done, he poured a little more alcohol over the area, washing some of the blood away and making Spidey shudder in a really distracting way. Then he gently lay a fresh cotton pad over the wound and carefully wrapped a bandage around the boy's ribs, holding it all in place. He tried not to stare at all the smooth skin and flat, hard muscles that lay exposed beneath his hands.

"There." He said when he'd finally finished, finding it hard to look into Spidey's eye patches. "You'll be up and flipping about, showing off that fine spider ass in no time."

[I thought we weren't saying shit like that anymore.]

"Right. Sorry. Reflex." Wade pulled away with the intention of standing and cleaning up the used medical supplies, but Spider-Man caught one of his hands and held him there. Wade stopped breathing.

{He's touching us.}

[I know. Fuck.]

{No. He's _touching us_.}

Wade wasn't wearing his gloves. He jerked his hand away with a small gasp, quickly turning to grab his gloves from the table and pull them over his scarred, unsteady hands. He swallowed, really unable to look at Spidey now.

A gentle touch on his arm made him turn back anyway, because how could he deny any request from Spidey, no matter how small? "I'm sorry," said the young hero, his voice quiet but slightly rough.

Wade shook his head vehemently. "No no no. Fuck. _I'm_ sorry."

[He shouldn't have had to see that.]

{It's disgusting.}

Spidey tilted his head slightly to the side, as if confused. "Why are you sorry? You saved me, Deadpool." There was an edge of disbelief to the boy's tone, and Wade couldn't bring himself to be surprised by it.

He just shrugged in response.

A few moments passed in silence, and Wade was suddenly very aware that he'd brought Spider-Man to his apartment. Like, the one he was actually living in now. He glanced around, trying to see it with fresh eyes as Spidey would. It wasn't filthy yet, thank the gods. Although it was messy. Videogames and movies were strewn around the floor under the tv, sitting next to his Play Station. The kitchen counter was crowded with takeout containers, but they hadn't developed any smells. The kitchen table held several guns in various stages of assembly along with cleaning supplies and extra bullets. A Captain America calendar hung from the bathroom door, and there were only two wet towels on the floor in there. His bedroom door was closed. That was good, since he didn't really want Spidey to see the Spider-Man poster he had hanging over his bed. Or the sniper rifles, extensive collection of knives, and the flamethrower.

"Sorry about Mr. Stark." Wade glanced at Spidey again, watching as the boy edged himself up against the couch cushion, one hand pressed to his side.

Wade snorted. "You're not responsible for that walking Napoleonic complex. Besides, we all know why he's called Iron Man."

{Because he has an iron rod shoved so far up his ass it's lodged in his brain!}

"Exactly." Wade nodded. The kid was looking quizzical, though. "You know." He gestured weakly in no particular direction. "Rod. Up the ass."

Spidey snorted a soft, surprised laugh, but immediately hissed in pain at the movement. Wade bit his lip in sympathy.

There was a moment of almost companionable silence. "I, um…" Spider-Man took a deep breath and used one hand to push his mask up to his nose. "I looked for you at our… On the roof of the bank."

Wade blinked, his jaw going slack in surprise. "You did?"

[No way.]

{We thought he'd never want to lay eyes on our sorry ass again!}

[He's still just trying to be nice. That's what he does.]

"Well… Yeah." Spidey swallowed, and Wade's eyes followed the bob of his Adam's apple inside the pale, perfect skin of the spider's neck. "After yesterday… I wasn't sure… I was worried about you, I guess."

Wade stared, shocked into silence.

{He was worried… About _us_?}

[See? I was right. He is way way way too good for us. Too nice and pure. And young. Too good. We should go far, far away before we manage to fuck him up.]

Spider-Man continued, oblivious to the impact his words had on Wade. "I waited around for a while, in case you came. I was there when I heard the commotion in Times Square. I left to… Well, you know."

Wade found himself nodding automatically. "Right. Sorry… I should have come."

{We really didn't think he'd be there. Ever.}

Wade turned his head away and mumbled under his breath. "Yeah, and shame on us. We were stupid to think he wouldn't show. He's way too kind for his own good."

[Isn't that the truth.]

Wade suddenly felt Spidey's touch on his wrist like an electrical shock through the fabric of his suit. "Thanks, Red." Spider-Man's tone and the set of his jaw were far, far too earnest for Wade to stomach. "Really. I'd be dead without you."

Wade shifted away, his heart pounding too hard to handle any more of the boy's touch. "Don't be stupid, kid." He said, his voice turning unintentionally bitter. "Your precious Tony Stark would have saved you. He's practically more of a stalker than I am."

He saw Spidey's jaw tighten. "That's not fair. I'm trying to say thank you."

Wade wasn't sure how to respond to that. The boxes offered no suggestions. "Yeah, well… There's no need, kid." It was the least he could do.

Now Spidey's mouth was twisting into a scowl. "I'm not a fucking kid. Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Oh, Iron Man's allowed to call you a kid but I'm not? Talk about double standards." Wade crossed his arms over his chest and watched as the skin on Spider-Man's neck flushed pink.

"He always treats me like a kid. That doesn't mean I am one. And I thought I could expect more from _you_."

[Ouch.]

{Hot dog, the little spider's really mad! How sexy.}

Wade scowled back. "You _are_ a kid. You're way too young to be… Whatever. You're just a kid. And it's wrong of me to treat you otherwise."

{He has no idea how wrong…}

[Very, very wrong.]

Spidey clenched his teeth and _growled_. It was very hard for Wade not to think that was hot. "I. Am not. A _kid_." He tried to sit up more fully, but clutched at his side with a pained gasp. That didn't stop him from continuing his tirade. "I might be young, but that hardly means anything. It's not like I haven't seen things, or been through stuff. I'm not some innocent, naïve child. So stop fucking treating me like one."

{What do you think he's been through? Now I'm curious. You should ask him.}

"I'm not asking him," Wade mumbled. He stared at Spidey for a moment, considering his words. It… kind of made sense.

[You just want it to make sense so you can stop feeling guilty.]

Wade ignored White. "Okay, Baby Boy. Sorry."

Spidey's throat and jaw flushed red, and he shifted in his seat slightly, his fingers fumbling to pull down the top of his suit as if he'd just remembered he was practically half naked. "Don't call me that." He mumbled, but he didn't sound very convicted. Wade tried not to smile.

"Sorry."

Spidey nodded slightly. They looked at each other for a moment. Suddenly, Wade could feel the younger boy's eyes on him. It made his skin prickle.

"Why are you covered in blood?"

Wade looked away, his heart rate quickening slightly. "Oh, um… No reason. I was… Well, some of it's yours."

[A very, very small portion of it.]

"You were working, weren't you?"

Wade couldn't interpret Spider-Man's tone, and he couldn't bring himself to look at the boy. He wouldn't have been able to tell anything from that mask, anyhow. He gave one reluctant nod, and waited for the scolding he was sure he'd receive.

A beat passed, then, "Was it a bad person?"

Wade turned to look at Spidey, surprised. "Um… Yeah. Pretty bad."

Spidey hummed slightly, but made no comments otherwise.

{Gosh, why does he have to be so mysterious?}

[He hates it. He's just pities us too much to say anything.]

Wade settled his hands awkwardly in his lap, unsure what else to say. Spidey raised a hand to the back of the couch, and seemed to be surveying the damage he'd done. It was rather impressive. "Sorry about that." He mumbled.

Wade shook his head. "Don't worry about. This couch is shit and it's going to be covered in taco stains in a couple weeks anyway. Besides, it's not like I don't have enough money to buy ten thousand couches, easy."

Spidey let out a gentle chuckle, shaking his head. Wade felt warm.

Spider-Man took a deep breath, then started to swing his legs down off the couch, grunting in pain at the movement, his teeth set.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Wade placed a hand on Spidey's chest, holding him there. "Where the hell do you think you're going, little spider?"

Spider-Man stared at him blankly. "Home?" He asked.

Wade scoffed. "Oh yeah? What're you gonna do, take a cab?"

Spidey glanced down at himself, as if just realizing that he'd hardly be able to walk, let alone swing through the city on one working web shooter. "Um… I guess so."

Wade shook his head. "I don't think so. You're staying right here." He pushed Spider-Man back into the couch cushions, cutting off the protests he was opening his mouth to make. "Just sleep for a few hours and you'll probably be much better in the morning. But if you leave now, you might pop those stitches and end up bleeding out on fifth avenue."

{We don't want him bleeding out.}

[Not unless we're doing it.]

{… We'll see. That's a discussion for another time.}

Spidey still seemed reluctant, but he allowed himself to be settled into a laying position once again. "I can only stay for a couple hours…" He warned, but his voice was already heavy with exhaustion.

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Wade stood up and plucked a blanket from a nearby chair, unfolding it and laying it over Spidey. "Don't worry your pretty little head, I'll wake you up before dawn. Wouldn't want to get caught in the harsh light of day sleeping in Deadpool's apartment."

Wade rushed away before Spidey could say anything else, afraid that if he stayed a second longer he'd be stuck forever staring at Spider-Man laying on his couch, fingers clutching gently at the top of Wade's favorite pokémon blanket.

He found his way into his room and shut the door, sitting down on his bed in a bit of a daze.

{Spider-Man is sleeping on our couch.}

"I know."

{Spider-Man has really nice hipbones.}

"I know." Wade fell backwards onto the mattress, his arms falling spread eagle and his feet still planted on the ground.

He didn't intend to sleep, but it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for just a second. He was suddenly exhausted…

"I can't believe this is happening." He breathed.

[Me neither. It's horrible.]

{It's the best fucking thing ever!}

[You're such an idiot.]

"Spider-Man's here…" Wade could feel himself drifting off, but there was nothing he could do about it.

When he woke up, the bright, hot sunlight of mid morning was streaming in through his window. He sat bolt upright, startled by the discomfort of waking up in his mask. He usually took it off to sleep. He blinked around the room, trying to remember if last night had been a dream or real life.

{Real life! Real life! Oh my god. Spidey!}

Wade jolted to his feet, throwing he bedroom door open and striding into the living room. His heart sank to see only an empty couch. At least the first aid kit was sitting out, providing some evidence that it hadn't all been a fantastic dream.

[We should have expected him to be gone. He probably left as soon as we shut the bedroom door. Couldn't wait to leave.]

{Hey, didn't we establish that Spidey is a truly nice person? Wait. What's that?}

Wade's eyes fell on a slip of paper sitting on the coffee table. He stepped forward and picked it up, eyes skimming rapidly over the words. He read it over three times in a row, a smile slowly growing into a grin on his face.

 _Had to go home. Thanks for everything. Really._  
 _I'm gonna take a few days off from Spider-Man because, well, you know._  
 _Meet me Tuesday night on the roof?_  
 _-Spidey_

He had drawn a small spider beside the signature.

{I'm dying. I'm literally dying.}

[Well… I guess he doesn't hate us.]

"No. No, I don't think he does."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
Zero - The Smashing Pumpkins  
Lyrics:  
Oops!... I Did It Again - Britney Spears  
In For The Kill - La Roux  
Born to Die - Lana Del Rey

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	5. So Long, Fresh Breath of Innocence

**Peter**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter's stomach hurt. And it wasn't because of the half-healed stab wound in his side. No. It was because he was headed to his first subject of the day, Trigonometry, and MJ was in his class.

He hadn't seen or heard from either of his two best friends since the disastrous end to his birthday party. He'd considered texting them both many times, but he just couldn't figure out what to say. He wanted to apologize, to Harry especially, but every text he typed out and read over seemed incredibly inadequate. Harry had done so much for Peter, and the younger boy had clearly just turned around and betrayed him. Sure, he hadn't _planned_ to kiss his friend's crush, but he had. And that was a really shitty way to repay Harry's boundless kindness.

He thought he should talk to MJ in person when he let her down. He'd gone over what he should say in his head dozens of time, but he was suddenly questioning every word of it as he dragged his feet down the hallway, just a few yards from his class. The bell would ring in a minute, and Peter was never late for class, but he was seriously considering skipping today. Just this once. Because his stomach was in knots and breaking his perfect attendance record might actually be worth it to avoid telling a beautiful, funny, amazing girl and his best friend that he didn't like her back.

Really, was he insane? Peter had never in a million years expected someone as incredible as MJ to like him like _that_. He should be jumping at the opportunity to date her, but he… Just wasn't. He could say it was because of Harry, and it was true that he wouldn't for one second consider pursuing a relationship if it would hurt his best friend, but it was more than that. He couldn't really picture himself with MJ, couldn't really imagine being with her… non-platonically. He had in the past; that's what made it so strange. He'd had the biggest crush on the redhead his freshman year, but those feelings had disappeared somewhere along the way.

How in the world was he supposed to tell her that without hurting her? Because he didn't want to hurt her. No more than he already had, at least.

Peter lingered outside the door, letting other students brush past him to enter the room, a few casting curious looks in his direction. Finally, he worked up his courage and went in. He was Spider-Man, after all; if he couldn't face one teenage girl then how the hell was he supposed to call himself a hero?

He took a deep breath when he spotted MJ sitting in her usual seat, right beside Peter's, and made his way over to her. He felt like he might throw up as he pulled the chair out and sat down next to her, ignoring the twinge of pain in his side as he did so.

"Hi, Peter." Peter blinked at MJ in surprise, not having expected her to speak first. Her voice was a bit distant, and she kept her eyes trained on the notebook in front of her instead of looking at him, but at least she was speaking to him.

"Hey…" He opened his backpack and went about taking out his supplies for class, mostly just to keep his hands busy and forestall talking to her. But it didn't take long to set his notebook and pencil on the desk, and Peter was left with empty space and silence between them. He chewed on his bottom lip.

"Um… Could we, uh, talk?" He wasn't sure how he should go about this sort of thing, and he found himself flinching slightly at how nervous he sounded.

She glanced at him for a moment, but looked away again too quickly for Peter to interpret the tone of her gaze. "Class is about to start." She pointed out, distant but polite. Peter's chest felt tight when he realized how cold she was being towards him. Had he really offended her that much?

"Oh, right. Well… Maybe we could-" The bell rang, interrupting Peter. He cleared his throat, tried to start again, but MJ was staring down at her notebook, hear hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain, clearly not wanting to have this conversation. Their teacher called the students' attention to the front of class and began the lesson before Peter could say anything else.

It was a sort of torture, sitting next to her for the next fifty minutes. He kept glancing over to see if she looked upset, or if she was looking at him, but each time he was met only with her cool indifference as she focused on her class work. Peter hardly heard a word out of his teacher's mouth the whole period. He found himself wishing he were anywhere else, wishing he could think about anything else because this whole stupid situation was making him so anxious he thought he might have to ask for the bathroom pass to go throw up.

So he tried to distract himself. Peter cast around in his mind for something that would hold his attention, and he almost immediately thought of Deadpool. The mercenary was definitely the most interesting and confusing thing in Peter's life right now, even with MJ and Harry both giving him the silent treatment (and that was really saying something).

He thought about Deadpool's hands, which he'd seen as the mercenary stitched him up. It had shocked him a bit at first, to see all that scar-covered skin, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense. Deadpool had acted kind of strange when they ate tacos that one night. He had chalked it up to the guy just being a little off his rocker, but perhaps he'd been hiding his skin from Spider-Man. Was it possible that those scars extended to his face, as well? Peter was curious. And he felt bad for being curious, because of course no one wanted people gaping at their scars, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know what happened. And why.

Deadpool was an enigma. He killed people for money. Hell, he'd been covered in one of his victim's blood Saturday night, and it terrified Peter how much that hadn't bothered him. Peter didn't like that Deadpool was a killer. But what really made him feel sick and confused and guilty as hell is how much he couldn't find it in himself to feel upset about it. He'd sat there on Deadpool's couch and looked at the blood on his suit, listened to Deadpool admit that he'd killed someone, and he'd just felt… Curious. And Spider-Man shouldn't like Deadpool. He should at least try to reform the mercenary. Because Deadpool was insane and a killer, but he'd also saved Spider-Man's life. Twice.

And so Peter was confused. And intrigued. And even more confused because he shouldn't be _intrigued_. He shouldn't be wondering about Deadpool and thinking about him in class, he shouldn't be looking forward to their meeting on Tuesday night. Deadpool was extremely morally questionable, and Spider-Man was supposed to be the epitome of morality.

Needless to say, Peter thought himself in dizzying circles for the rest of class. He was so preoccupied, in fact, that he was startled when the bell finally rang at the end of the period. He turned back to MJ, but found that he hadn't actually thought about what he would say to her. His hesitation lost him his chance. MJ offered him a tight smile as she gathered her things, a sadness in her pretty green eyes, and then she was leaving without another word. Peter felt miserable.

He couldn't concentrate in his next class, either. Thankfully he had English third period, and they were going to the library to do research for a paper, so at least he wouldn't have to pretend to be paying attention.

Peter was lingering morosely in the mythology section, fingering the books on the shelves with no real intention of removing them, when he felt a slight tingle run down his spine. He tensed and turned to look around the aisle, but there was no one there. He turned back to the shelves, frowning slightly. He had just spotted a book he actually needed and was reaching for it when someone grabbed him. One hand landed on his shoulder and the other folded over his eyes, blocking his vision.

Peter yelped softly and tried to twist away, ignoring the pain in his side at the movement. He was released and he spun around to stare at Harry, who was holding his hands up innocently and rolling his sky blue eyes. "It's just me, scaredy cat. God."

Peter huffed. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" He resisted the urge to press his hand to his bandaged side. He lowered his voice so he wouldn't call more attention to them. "What are you doing here? Don't you have government right now?"

Harry folded his arms across his chest and shrugged, leaning casually back against a bookshelf and looking unfairly like a model in his subtle designer clothes. "I skipped." He said simply.

Peter frowned, but decided this probably wasn't the best time to scold the older boy. He didn't want them to keep fighting, if that's what they'd been doing. He took a deep breath, determined to make things right with Harry like he'd been unable to with MJ. "Look, I'm really sorry. I know you-"

Harry waved his hand in the air, brushing Peter aside as he had the annoying tendency to do when he didn't like what the brown-eyed boy was saying. "Whatever. Don't worry about it." Peter frowned, but Harry went on before he could disagree. "So tell me. How's MJ? Have you two made it official yet?" Peter could tell he was trying to be upbeat, but the tightness of his jaw betrayed his unhappiness.

Peter shook his head fervently. "No. Things are horrible with MJ. Ever since I pushed her away she won't even talk to me. And this morning-"

Harry cut him off again, eyes widened slightly. "You pushed her away?"

"Well, yeah. I wasn't exactly expecting it and… Harry, you should have told me you liked her. You should have told _MJ_. I mean, I'm sure she would much rather go out with you anyway. She probably only tried to kiss me because it was my birthday or something and she was trying to be nice. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings so much but I guess I did because she won't even…" Peter trailed off, giving Harry a questioning look. The older boy was grinning gently, his entire demeanor much more relaxed than it had been just a moment ago. He almost seemed… Relieved. "What?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief, letting out a light laugh. "Oh, Peter… You're so fucking clueless. It's adorable."

Peter frowned sullenly. "That's not true."

Harry pushed away from the wall, unfolding his arms as he stepped closer to Peter. "I don't like MJ, Petey."

Peter's expression turned confused, his eyebrows furrowing. "But then why…?"

Harry's hands landed on Peter's upper arms as he stepped even closer, his fingers curling lightly around his biceps. "Maybe this will clear things up."

He held Peter's perplexed gaze for a long, lingering moment, waiting until the confusion in those chocolate eyes had cleared into shock before he started to lean in.

Peter saw it coming. He was surprised as fuck, but he saw it coming this time (not like with MJ when one second she was standing there and the next second it was like she'd accidentally fallen onto his face). He saw it coming, and he could have pulled away. He could have leaned back. He could have put a hand up and stopped Harry.

But he didn't.

Harry closed the last inch between them, and then his mouth was on Peter's. His lips were cool and gentle, their pressure so light on Peter's that he was surprised when his heart broke into a stuttering race and his cheeks suddenly felt very, very hot. He made a soft, surprised sound, and he heard Harry's breath hitch.

And then Harry's mouth was _moving_ , and it felt so strange, and it made Peter's knees feel kind of weak, but he tried to relax into it and maybe mimic what Harry was doing. And when his lips fell open and he felt the older boy's breath warm across his tongue, he gasped lightly.

And then Harry was pulling away, their lips separating once more and cool air rushing in where there had just been heat. Peter's eyes had drifted closed somewhere along the line, and now they flickered open to meet Harry's gaze, which was filled with some intensity that Peter couldn't read. His fingers had ended up curled around the hem of Harry's shirt somehow.

Peter swallowed, his thoughts and heart racing. They were still close enough that Harry's breath brushed over Peter's jaw as he murmured, "See you around, Parker." His hands slid down Peter's arms before falling away, and he had that classic Harry smirk on his face as he stepped backwards, breaking Peter's grip on his shirt.

Stunned into silence, Peter watched a small piece of his innocence walking away as Harry turned and disappeared around the corner of their aisle.

He stared in that direction for a long time, glassy eyed and disbelieving. "What. The fuck." He breathed to himself.

Harry Osborn. _Harry_ Osborn. Liked him. Peter Parker. Wait. Harry had been upset when MJ kissed him because Harry liked _Peter_? What. The fuck. This did not make sense. It made even less sense than MJ liking Peter.

Oh god, _MJ_. What was he supposed to say to her now?

Peter skipped lunch. He couldn't deal with seeing either one of his friends, especially since he had no idea what to say to either of them and the thought of facing them right now made him feel sick. Even more sick than he'd felt that morning. So he skipped lunch and he hid in his chemistry class and he spent the rest of the day in a fog. He couldn't focus on class at all. He even got called on in history and couldn't answer the question; it was mortifying. And for as much time as he spent thinking round and round about how the hell Harry and MJ both liked him, trying to rationalize it or find some other explanation for their behavior, he spent just as much time thinking about Harry's kiss.

Peter's first kiss. His first real one, anyway, because that thing with MJ had been… well, not a kiss. But what happened in the library had been… And it had been with _Harry_. Peter had never thought about his friend that way. Never thought about a guy that way. But he couldn't deny that it had been… Well, he hadn't disliked it. Let's leave it at that. And every time he thought about, thought about how Harry's mouth had felt on his, his face and neck got hot and his pulse jumped at the memory. It was confusing. Quite confusing.

And to make matters worse, Ned was pestering him at the end of the day about exactly the things Peter did _not_ want to talk about.

" _Dude_ you have to tell me what happened with MJ. Did she kiss you? She kissed you, right? Are you going out now? Why the hell didn't you text me about it? Didn't you see all my messages?" Ned paused his incessant questioning only to gasp and grab at Peter's arm as they walked down the hallway. "Oh my god. Did you do more than kiss? Oh shit, tell me you did more than kiss."

Peter groaned and shook his head, feeling a strong headache coming on. "No, Ned… God."

Ned looked perplexed. "Wait. She didn't kiss you? Or you didn't do more than kiss?"

Peter shifted out of Ned's grip, glancing around uncomfortably. The last thing he needed was to run into MJ _or_ Harry right now. "Yeah, she kissed me…" He admitted reluctantly.

Ned let out a whoop and punched the air like some dumb jock or something. "Yes! I knew it. I totally knew it."

Peter shook his head, frowning. "It didn't go well. I… Well, I was surprised. And I kind of…"

Ned's face fell. "Oh no… How did you mess this up, Parker?"

Peter scowled at his friend. "It's not my fault! No one told me what was going on. I was just surprised and I pulled away, that's all. And now MJ's mad at me. Or hurt, or something. Anyway, she won't talk to me. It sucks."

Ned frowned sympathetically. "That does suck. But it's also totally your fault."

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever." As if he wasn't feeling guilty enough already. Besides, it was much more complicated than Ned knew. But he couldn't tell Ned about Harry. Not yet. He was still too confused about it to discuss it with anyone.

"But you like her, too, right? I mean, you're gonna try to make it up to her? Because you should. You know MJ, she'd forgive you. And then you could date! How fucking awesome would that be?"

Peter made a noncommittal noise, wishing this conversation would end already. He was saved from having to say anything further by a sharp tingle at the back of his neck. He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to jump out of the way or duck. But when he saw the movement in his periphery, he flinched away to protect his injured side. The punch landed on his cheekbone instead of his nose, where it had undoubtedly been aimed. Peter grunted, stumbling into the bank of lockers, and tried not to react to the flash of pain in his side. At least his glasses hadn't been broken this time.

"What. The fuck?" He spat, holding one hand to his cheek as he glared up at Flash Thompson.

"That's for gym class, Pansy Parker. Next time, just stay in your nerd corner." Flash grunted out his typically eloquent insult before stomping away with his posse, leaving Peter to glare daggers at his stupid broad back.

"What the fuck did I do in gym?" He fumed as Ned took his arm, helping him back into the center of the hallway.

"You really didn't notice?" Ned looked at him incredulously. "You got him out in kickball. Nobody gets Flash out."

Peter rolled his eyes, poking gently at his cheek, which was already tender. He'd no doubt have a lovely bruise in the next hour or so. "I wasn't paying any attention. God. What a fucking prick."

Ned nodded his agreement. As they neared the front doors of the school, Peter slowed to a stop. He didn't want to run into Harry in the parking lot. "I, um… I forgot a book I need for homework." Ned gave him a weird look, but Peter ignored it. "I gotta get it. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"You don't wanna come over today?" Ned asked hopefully. "We can start that model."

Peter shook his head apologetically. "Can't. Gotta go help Aunt May this afternoon. I'll catch you later." He didn't wait for a response, spinning around and heading back in the direction of his locker.

He wandered around for a few minutes, keeping his eyes out for MJ, Peter, or Flash, before slipping out a side door and sneaking off campus like a juvenile delinquent. He didn't fully relax until he'd walked all the way to the subway.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter had been coerced into helping his Aunt at the nursing home. He didn't really mind, especially since he was taking a forced break from crime fighting, at least until tomorrow. He used to go along with her a lot more before he became Spider-Man, but these past few months he just hadn't really had time.

Aunt May was a perceptive woman, and she'd had no trouble noticing how sulky Peter was over the weekend (not that he was doing much to hide it, laying around in his pajamas, watching bad television and eating ice cream for hours on end). Saturday it really had just been a pity party. Peter had felt terrible about MJ and Harry, and the way Deadpool had left their chat on his birthday night had him inexplicably preoccupied. He and Aunt May had a movie marathon, as they'd planned, but Peter's heart just wasn't in it. He sat in silence most of the time, zoning out to whatever movie was on instead of cracking jokes like he usually did.

And Sunday he'd been laid up by the stab wound under his ribs. He put on a show of still being moody (which he was, although less so), so he could have an excuse to lie on the couch all day and hardly move. Just getting out of his Spidey suit and into his pajamas when he'd tumbled into his room at six in the morning had been hard enough, and he'd slept until noon after that.

So Aunt May was worried, and Peter felt bad about that. The last thing he wanted to do was make her worry, but he hoped that going with her as she made her rounds today would make her feel better. If he acted upbeat enough, she'd probably assume he had just had some sort of teenage-angst weekend (which was half the truth…) and let it go without further concern. It might be hard, since the incident in the library had Peter's head as jumbled as if a hurricane was tearing through it, but he would try to put it out of his mind and act as normal as possible.

He made his way to the nurses' station when he got to the facility, following the familiar path through the brightly lit hallways and trying not to let the old-people smell assault his heightened senses. It had been a while since he'd visited, but everything looked exactly the same. He plastered a grin on his face as he walked up to the counter and hoped it didn't look too fake. "Hey, Aunt May!"

His Aunt held up one finger as she finished writing something on a chart, then raised her head to greet Peter. She raised an eyebrow at his over-enthusiastic expression. "Good afternoon, Peter. Are you particularly excited to be helping me today?"

Peter nodded, but tried to tone down the enthusiasm. "Yeah. I mean sure. Yeah. It's been a while… I don't mind."

Aunt May's eyes latched onto something, and she frowned slightly and reached forward, grabbing hold of Peter's chin and tilting his head to the side. "What in the world happened to your face?"

Peter swallowed, remembering that his cheek must be sporting a dark purple bruise by now, and turned his head to break her grip on his chin. "Nothing. I fell in gym." He lied. Aunt May gave him a hard look, but thankfully she let it go.

"I see." Aunt May gave a little shake of her head, but offered Peter a smile. "Alright. Well, I hope you won't mind being in charge of the food cart!"

Peter couldn't help but groan in disappointment. Food duty was the worst. Well, okay, it wasn't the _worst_ , but it still kind of sucked. The prepackaged meals that were heated up and handed out looked even less appetizing than they smelled, and Peter would have to unwrap each one as he delivered them. And he wasn't really sure why they served dinner at four in the afternoon, anyway. Maybe old people went to bed really early, but it still seemed strange to him. However, he wasn't here to complain, so he acquiesced with a sigh. "Okay, fine."

"That's my boy!" Aunt May gathered her charts and headed towards the kitchens. Peter dropped his backpack behind the counter before following her. When he caught up to her halfway down the hall, she gave him an appraising look. "How was school?"

Peter shrugged. "Fine. Same as usual." He avoided her gaze, knowing that if he made eye contact she'd probably see right through him. School hadn't been fine. It hadn't been the same as usual. It had been bizarre. And confusing. But he wasn't ready to talk about it, and he was trying to get his Aunt _not_ to worry about him.

Thankfully, she seemed to buy it. Or perhaps she was just extremely perceptive and could tell that Peter didn't want to talk about whatever had been bothering him (Peter often suspected this was the case, since he probably couldn't fool his Aunt as easily as he thought he could). Either way, they walked the rest of the way to the kitchens in comfortable silence.

Peter took the cart of little tv-dinner trays and wheeled it back into the hall, resisting the urge to hold his breath as the smell clouded his senses. It looked like mashed potatoes, mashed peas, and some sort of mystery meat today. Oh, and a brownie. Which also looked mashed. Things tended to be served mashed when most of the residents didn't have all their teeth anymore.

"Mr. Evans if first!" Aunt May announced cheerfully. She knocked politely on the resident's door when they got there, letting Peter and herself in when they received a verbal answer. Aunt May chatted warmly with the old man in the hospital bed, took his vitals and delivered his medicines, asked him a few health-related questions. Peter introduced himself, shook the man's wrinkled hand, served the food.

It went on as such for several more residents. Some were more present than others, some were more cheerful than others. It wasn't so bad, in the end. Peter even sort of enjoyed being doted on as "such a nice young man," especially since it made his Aunt smile with pride.

When about half the food was gone from the cart (and Peter was getting concerned that the rest would be cooling too soon - probably a normal hazard of nursing home food), they arrived at the first room that had a visitor. They could hear the conversation from down the hall, a distinct difference from the sound of daytime television or talk radio. Not to mention the fact that both speakers seemed to be cursing quite a lot.

And one of the voices was achingly familiar.

Peter frowned slightly in confusion, trying to place where he had heard that voice before. His confusion increased when Aunt May stopped him a few doors away, a slight smile gracing her lips.

"It sounds like Al's nephew is here. That's good, I don't think he's been around in a while." Peter nodded, although he wasn't sure why Aunt May was taking the time to tell him this. May glanced towards the room, where the pair seemed to be in the midst of a quiet argument. "Wade is… Well, he's a little peculiar." She turned back to smile at Peter again, and he was surprised by the fondness in her expression. "But he's really a very good boy. Always very polite, in his own way."

"Okay…" Peter was really getting confused now. That seemed to be a theme today, and he was getting sick of it.

Aunt May sighed softly. "He was in some sort of accident and he's quite sensitive about it. So don't stare, alright?"

Peter blinked at her in surprise. "Oh. Okay, of course not." That would be no problem. Peter was a very polite boy (as his aunt and uncle had raised him to be).

Peter followed his Aunt to the correct room, unintentionally listening in on what was being said between Al and her visitor.

"Don't give me that shit, old woman. Not even Fluffy misses you." There was that familiar voice again.

"Oh, put a goddamn sock in it, Wilson. Or on it. I'm sure you're taking advantage of living alone by engaging in your favorite activity every five minutes." Peter raised an eyebrow as they neared the door, surprised to hear such crass words from what sounded like a very old woman.

"Oh, Al. We both know that's not my favorite activity." Wade's tone had turned dangerous, high and teasing with a sharp edge that made Peter's skin tingle. It was just… so… _familiar_. "Maybe my second favorite. Besides, your presence never discouraged me before."

"Oh, I know." The old woman sounded bitter as Aunt May raised her hand to knock, interrupting the pair's odd conversation.

Peter was frowning as Al called out "Come in!" in a much more pleasant tone than she'd just been using with her nephew.

He followed his Aunt inside, maneuvering the cart through the doorway as she greeted them. "Good afternoon, Al. Hello, Mr. Wilson. It's so nice to see you again!" Peter got inside the room and his gaze slid over the old woman in a bright pink track suit and dark sunglasses sitting on the bed, then landed curiously on the man sitting in the visitor's chair as he was nodding hello to Aunt May.

Peter gasped, his mouth falling open and his eyes widening.

The man's face was covered in scars, rough and thick and identical to the scars on a certain mercenary's hands. That voice. That tone. Those words. Deadpool. Deadpool was sitting in a nursing home. Deadpool was _here_ , without his mask on.

Peter hadn't realized he was staring, still shocked, until Aunt May admonished him with a sharp, "Peter!"

He blinked, closed his mouth and swallowed. He watched as something flashed in Wade's ice blue eyes, angry and dangerous and broken. Then the man was pulling up the hood of his red Spider-Man sweatshirt, pulling it as low over his face as it would go, so Peter could hardly see his eyes anymore. Shit. Something ached fiercely in Peter's chest as he realized how his reaction must have looked.

"S-Sorry. I'm sorry." He looked down shamefully, trying to think of some excuse to explain his behavior, but there was none. He couldn't exactly tell them he'd recognized Wade as the most infamous masked mercenary in the world.

"No problem, kid." Wade's voice was rougher than usual, lower, and Peter risked looking at him again, guilt thick in his stomach. "Should be fucking used to it by now." He muttered, and Peter wished he could sink in to the floor and disappear. God, why didn't he have time traveling abilities? Then he could go back ten seconds and _not_ be a complete and utter asshole.

Aunt May was frowning at him and Peter felt terrible. "This is my nephew, Peter. I apologize for his thoughtlessness. Peter, this is Al and Wade." Peter nodded awkwardly, getting a small wave from Al but no response from Wade.

He kept silent, still wishing he could disappear, and went to get Al a tray of food while May checked her vitals and asked how the old woman had been feeling. As he watched them, Peter realized that Al was blind. She didn't look directly at May when they were speaking, and he couldn't see her eyes behind those dark glasses.

He kept glancing furtively at Deadpool…. Well, Wade, but the mercenary kept his arms crossed over his chest and his head down, not saying anything else until Peter was unwrapping the food and laying it on the small table attached to the bed.

Wade leaned forward to look at the food, his eyes still hidden although Peter could see his mouth twisting into a small smile. "Look, Blind Al!" He snickered at his own wordplay, and Peter couldn't help but smile, too. "They mashed up your food for you! Isn't that nice?" He spoke with exaggerated excitement, reaching out to pluck the brownie from the plate. Al's hand shot out with surprising speed and accuracy, slapping Wade's fingers away from her desert.

"The food here is just fine, Wade. In fact, it's much better than _your_ cooking. If you can call that cooking."

Wade let out an injured gasp, cradling his hand to his chest (Peter noticed that he was wearing gloves even though it was quite warm outside). "That's low, old lady. We both know you would kill for my banana and peanut butter pancakes."

Al picked up her brownie and took a bite. "Depends on who I'd have to kill." She shot back.

Peter grinned. Even Aunt May had an amused smile on her face as she measured out Al's medicine. "Now, now. Play nice, you two."

"I will if she will!" Wade exclaimed, sitting back in his chair. He seemed more relaxed now. Although he didn't take the hood off.

Peter leaned back against the wall by the door, watching Wade when he knew the man couldn't see him. This was so strange. What were the odds that Deadpool would know someone who stayed in Spider-Man's aunt's nursing home? Okay, well, it was kind of a tenuous connection. But it seemed pretty far-fetched to Peter.

Still, it was clear that Wade didn't know who Peter was. Peter smiled slightly at the irony as his gaze swept over the Spider-Man sweatshirt stretched across Wade's broad shoulders. He looked different when he wasn't in his skin-tight Deadpool suit. He still looked massive and dangerous, like he could knock anyone out with one punch, but he also looked… More gentle. Sitting there in jeans and purple Nike's and that sweatshirt.

When Aunt May handed Al her little cup of pills, Wade's hand shot out to snatch it up before she could take any. "They giving you the good stuff?" He asked, peering curiously at the collection of medication.

"Wade…" May gave the man a stern look, and Wade had the audacity to look sheepish as he handed the cup back to Al.

"Just curious!" He exclaimed, holding his hands up innocently. He leaned back in his chair and muttered quietly to himself, "Yeah… I wish we could, too."

Suddenly, baby blue eyes flickered over to Peter, catching his gaze. Peter felt his cheeks warm as Wade looked at him, and resisted the urge to duck his head. A small, almost hesitant smirk drifted over Wade's lips, and Peter felt his stomach twist slightly.

"Alright then! It was so nice to see you, Wade. Try not to tease Al too much, okay? Al, I'll see you later tonight before lights out. You two have a good evening!" Peter refocused his attention on his Aunt as she wrapped things up, trying to ignore his burning cheeks.

"Bye." He told the two of them a bit lamely, still thoroughly embarrassed by his idiocy when he came in. He took the cart back into the hallway and braced himself for the scolding he knew was coming his way.

Sure enough, as they started towards the next room, Aunt May made her displeasure known. "Peter Benjamin Parker, I did _not_ raise you to be so inconsiderate."

He hung his head, feeling eaten by the guilt. "I know… I'm sorry. I was just surprised. But that's no excuse."

Aunt May shook her head, lips pursed. "No, it's not. I expect more of you."

Peter swallowed. "I know." His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Aunt May sighed. "I don't mean to be harsh with you, dear. It's just that Wade is very sensitive about his skin. I know he might not seem like a sensitive guy, but he is. He's really very sweet if you get to know him."

Peter nodded, his thoughts racing as he tried to reconcile this image of Wade Wilson with the man he knew as Deadpool. It was kind of like he had two puzzle pieces in his hand, and they looked like they came from two completely different boxes, but somehow they still fit together. He thought over his interactions with Deadpool, picking out all of the small moments when the mercenary had shown some vulnerability. The crane. The care with which he stitched Peter up. The embarrassment about his hands. Those moments fit with Wade Wilson. And Wade's anger, the jokes, the grace with which he moved. That was Deadpool.

Somehow, it worked.

Peter spent the next hour wondering about Wade Wilson. How had he become Deadpool? How did he get those scars? What did he do for a living, if he had another job? How did he know the blind old woman named Al? Because somehow Peter doubted that Wade was really her nephew.

He was so preoccupied that he completely forgot to freak out about the Harry situation.

By the time he had finished helping Aunt May with the rest of the rounds, returned the empty cart to the kitchen, and followed his Aunt back to the nurses' station to pick up his bag, he had made a decision.

"Aunt May?" He asked as he slung his backpack over one shoulder.

"Hm?" She didn't look up from the charts she was filing away.

"Um, can I go check if Wade Wilson is still here? I wanted to apologize to him. And maybe see if he wanted to go get dinner."

Aunt May looked up at him, eyebrows arched slightly in surprise. "I think that's a good idea, Peter. Why don't you do that?"

Peter smiled. "Okay. Well, I'll see you at home after your shift." He always stayed up for her to come home before he went to bed (although he hardly ever actually went to bed, because, you know, Spider-Man).

"Alright. Be careful going home." She had looked back down at her charts.

"Okay!" Peter was halfway down the hall when Aunt May called out again.

"You should ask Wade to walk you to the subway, dear! He'd be very good protection."

Peter whirled around to stare at her, mortified. "Aunt _May_!" He shook his head at her grin, turning to continue on his way with slightly warmer cheeks.

Damn his flush-prone skin.

Peter stopped outside Al's door, swallowing against the nervousness he felt rising up inside his veins. This might not be a good idea. If he really thought about it, how smart was it to let Deadpool get to know his secret identity? What if he eventually figured out who Peter was? On the other hand, was it fair of him to try to get to know Wade Wilson when he knew he was Deadpool? Wasn't that a breach of privacy?

Before he had the chance to fall into full moral crisis mode, the door swung open. There stood Wade, staring down at Peter with a guarded, slightly suspicious expression. "I knew I heard a little puppy sniffing around out here."

Peter bit down on his bottom lip, shifting his feet slightly as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Sorry, I just… Um, I came to apologize."

Wade's eyes narrowed, but he relaxed his stance, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. Peter tried not to stare at the man's bare head. He didn't find the scars horrific, just… Interesting. And the line of Wade's jaw, the curve of his cheekbones… Well, he wasn't unattractive.

"Well?"

Peter blinked at Wade, his lips falling open as he realized he'd once again been staring. "Well, um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." Peter ran one hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his even though he knew it only made him look messier. "I was extremely rude and I let my Aunt May down and, well, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. That's the last thing I want to do."

Wade frowned at him, staring as if he was trying to figure something out, and Peter shifted uncomfortably. "It is new." He finally muttered. "But I bet the nurse made him do it."

Peter suppressed a smile. "My Aunt didn't make me. I _wanted_ to apologize. And I wanted to ask if you'd like to get a bite to eat."

That _really_ seemed to perplex Wade. He furrowed his brow, and Peter marveled at how expressive those blue eyes were. And then he looked suspicious again, and it made Peter sad to realize that Wade probably didn't get asked to hang out with people very often. "Look. Thanks for the pity offer, but I don't really think that's a good idea, kid." Wade stepped back and reached for the door, but Peter spoke up before he could be shut out.

"What about tacos?" He extended the offer like a metaphorical carrot, remembering that Deadpool once said he would _never_ say no to tacos. Would Wade keep that promise?

Wade froze, staring at Peter again, both surprised and confused. A few moments passed in tense silence before he finally nodded. "Yeah… Okay." He turned back to yell into the room behind him. "I'm out, Blindy! I got a much better offer. Catch ya on the flip side if you're not dead next week."

Peter raised his eyebrows at the strange goodbye, watching with some amusement as Wade slammed the door behind him, cutting off Al's bored "fuck you" and stepped into the hallway.

"Your relationship with your aunt is very different from mine." Peter stated wryly, earning a surprised look and a snort of laughter from Wade.

"True that, kid. True that." They started down the hallway together, and Peter suddenly realized that he'd just invited Deadpool to have dinner with him. Outside of their masks. It was kind of a big deal, but it was too late to go back on it now.

"How'd you know I liked tacos?" Wade asked with a sidelong glance.

Peter shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Lucky guess." He kept his hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze directed forwards as they walked. He wasn't quite sure how he should act. He was afraid that just being himself would lead to Wade recognizing him, but maybe he was giving himself too much credit. Spider-Man had always been different from plain old Peter Parker. Spider-Man was more confident, more fearless. He was wittier and stronger, a better person. Peter was just… Peter. So maybe it was safe to be himself, after all.

And in the end, he kind of felt like he could trust Wade. He had saved Spider-Man. Twice. And despite how he made his living and what everyone else said about him, Deadpool seemed like a good guy to Peter.

So he decided to try and relax, and actually get to know Wade Wilson. As they pushed their way out of the front doors of the nursing home and into the bright late-afternoon sun, Peter risked another glance at the taller man. "So. What makes Wade Wilson tick?" He asked. It wasn't the smoothest start to a conversation, but it was functional.

Wade chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he pulled his hood up over his face. Peter wasn't sure if he did so to shield his skin from the sun, or to hide it from other people. "Many things, Peter, many things." He seemed to think for a moment, tipping his head slightly to one side as if listening to something (his voices, Peter recognized). He finally raised a gloved hand and started ticking things off as he listed them. "Chimichangas, lemon bars, Spider-Man, pancakes, tootsie rolls, hot ass, my uh… job, tacos, gummy worms, and Spider-Man." He ticked off his last finger and nodded approvingly.

Peter couldn't help but grin. "You listed Spider-Man twice."

"Oh, I know. That's because I'm obsessed with him." His tone was so matter of fact that Peter had to laugh.

"Yeah, I can see that." He gestured to the sweatshirt. It was still strange to see his symbol on people's clothes. He hadn't wanted to copyright his look, even though Mr. Stark had advised him to, and now he was wondering if he'd made a mistake. But it wasn't really a big deal, in the end. It was mostly harmless stuff like kids costumes and t-shirts. There was one pretty disturbing calendar (which he wouldn't be surprised if Wade owned, actually), but otherwise Peter hadn't been bothered by the products sold in his name.

"Oh! Oh shit!" Wade stopped walking and stared down at his hands, suddenly distraught.

Peter jerked to a stop, too, his stomach sinking. "What? What is it?"

Wade looked up at him, his expressive eyes full of despair. "I forgot Golden Girls! And now I don't have enough fingers!"

Peter stared at him for a second, his mouth hanging open, then burst into laughter. "Oh… God, Wade, you scared me." And there was Deadpool. It wasn't so hard to see how the two of them were one and the same now. "You can have eleven things on your list, Sherlock." Peter started walking again and Wade kept pace beside him. "I like Golden Girls, too." He admitted.

Wade gave him a surprised look. "Aren't you, like, in high school?" Peter nodded. "Then how do you know about Golden Girls? Only little old ladies watch Golden Girls."

Peter raised an eyebrow at Wade. "Are you secretly a little old lady?"

Wade cracked a smile, and Peter was surprised by how nice it looked on the mercenary. He had often heard Deadpool smiling when he spoke through the mask, but he'd never seen it before. He found that he quite liked it.

"Would you be surprised if I said I was?" The corners of his mouth were still quirked upwards and there was a light in his eyes that made Peter want to grin.

He nodded gravely. "Yes, very surprised."

"In that case…" Wade trailed off, his eyes suddenly focusing on something behind Peter. He stopped walking. Peter stopped too, confusion passing over his features. Before he could ask what was wrong, Wade had stepped into Peter's space and was reaching around him for something. Peter inhaled sharply, smelling gunpowder and peppermint candy.

Wade stepped back after just a moment, holding a newspaper in his hands and staring intently at the front page. Peter turned around to look at the newsstand.

Plastered across the front page of every edition of the Daily Bugle was a color photograph of Spider-Man laying unconscious in Deadpool's arms, the crumpled NYPD truck upside down in the background. The headline read: **_SPIDER FINALLY FALLEN FROM ITS WEB_**. And at the bottom of the page, in smaller print: **_How is masked killer, Deadpool, involved? (see page 4)_**.

Peter frowned, but he didn't bother to pick up the paper. He knew what sorts of things the Bugle wrote about him, and he'd decided long ago that reading it would only cause him trouble. It didn't matter what they said; it only mattered that he was helping people.

Not that he'd been able to help anyone on Saturday night. He'd lost to the Green Goblin, and very badly. Spider-Man had never been defeated so soundly before. In fact, he'd never failed at all before that night. And now this new, highly dangerous criminal was still wandering free, able to attack the city at any time because Peter had been unable to stop him. Guilt settled heavy in his stomach, as it had many times over the past couple of days.

He had no excuses. He should have been faster, stronger, smarter. He'd never fought anyone that shut him down so easily. Even with Deadpool, he was evenly matched (if not even having a slight edge over the skilled mercenary). Hell, even with _Captain America_ he hadn't been so completely and utterly defeated.

The Green Goblin had knocked him down. Hard. All Peter could do was try to be ready for next time. And he didn't plan on losing again.

Lost in his thoughts as he stared at the photo multiplied dozens of times across the newsstand, Peter didn't realize for a while that Wade was muttering quietly to himself.

"Yeah, of course he saw… Well, wouldn't you?" Wade tore the paper open, turning angrily to page four, the pages crumpling in his hands. "No… Well, I… Fuck, would you fucking look at this?" He shook his head, eyes narrowing as he read whatever the paper was saying. "Fucking ridiculous."

Peter chewed on his bottom lip, watching Wade. He considered telling the mercenary just to ignore the stupid paper, like he did. They never printed the facts, anyway. They were just misguided assholes with nothing better to do than to make a public scandal out of the city's heroes. But he'd seen Deadpool's emotional sensitivity, and he didn't want to make Wade more upset.

The salesman at the stand interrupted for him. "Hey, buddy. You gonna pay for that?" The middle-aged man sidled up to Wade, his balding head barely passing Wade's shoulder. His New York accent was thick. "Cause I got people actually wanna make purchases, and they aint gonna buy a paper if its crumpled up and shit."

Peter saw it coming, but that didn't stop him from wincing when Wade grabbed the front of the man's shirt and lifted him onto his toes, leaning down to growl in his face. "Fuck. Off."

Peter hurried forward, placing one hand on Wade's chest and gently pushing him away from the startled salesman. Wade released his hold with a huff and started walking away down the sidewalk, the paper still held messily in one hand.

Peter smiled apologetically at the man. "Sorry, sorry." He dug in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a couple of dollar bills. "Here. Sorry."

The salesman took the cash but shook his head as he turned back to the stand, muttering something about "deranged fucking freaks."

Peter turned and followed after Wade, jogging a few steps to catch up to him. "Hey." He fell into step beside the mercenary and matched his pace. "You okay?"

Wade glanced sideways at Peter, looking as if he thought the boy were some kind of insane. "Fine." He managed, his jaw still set tight. "It just burns me the fuck up to see the shit they write about Spider-Man."

Peter sighed. "I wouldn't worry about it. I mean, I'm sure most people know it's not true. _I_ can certainly tell it's all bullshit. And Spider-Man probably tries to stay above all that, you know?"

Wade nodded seriously. "Right. Yeah. Because he has his head in the right place. Shit, that little spider's smart."

Peter bit down on his lip to suppress a smile, ducking his head to stare at the sidewalk.

Wade's voice lowered to a murmur. "That's not the point, White… Well yeah, I _know_ , it's just…" He sighed. "Whatever. Just fuck off."

Peter though maybe it might be helpful for him to pull Wade's attention away from the voices he heard. So far, they didn't seem like the most pleasant conversationalists. "What about Deadpool?" He asked curiously, glancing up at Wade's face, still half-hidden by his hood. He hadn't even considered what the paper might say about the mercenary. Wasn't Wade upset about that, too?

Wade just shrugged, but his face had gone suspiciously blank at the mention of his alter ego's name. "That assassin guy? Dunno. I'm not really sure why Spidey's hanging out with him."

Peter frowned. "Well, it looks to me like Deadpool saved him. That seems pretty cool." He directed his attention forwards and his next words were softer. "I know what people say about Deadpool, but I think maybe he could be a hero, too. If he tried."

Wade was silent after that, and Peter started to get nervous so he glanced up at him again. Wade was staring at him, a strange expression in his eyes. Peter tried not to blush as the older man looked away with a quiet, "Maybe. Maybe not."

They didn't talk after that, and they reached the Mexican restaurant after another minute of walking. Peter led them inside; he'd been here a couple times before. "So, it's not fancy or anything, but the food is really good." He started towards the counter, eyes fixed on the menu above. "I know you like tacos, but their nacho supreme is to die for."

"I know." Wade came to stand beside him. "I've been here before."

Peter looked at him in surprise. "You have? You should have said something. We can go somewhere else if you-"

"No." Wade shook his head. "Here's good. Besides, I've been to every Mexican place in New York."

Peter stared at him for a moment. "Wow. That's… impressive."

Wade smirked slightly. "You aint seen nothin' yet, kid."

Peter chuckled and shook his head, stepping up to the register to order. He got the nachos. Wade got two tacos, two chimichangas, and the nachos, too. Peter took his wallet out to pay, hoping fervently that he had enough cash, but Wade beat him to it, handing the cashier a crisp hundred dollar bill.

Peter gaped. Just a little bit. "Wade, I… I was gonna pay. This is supposed to be an apology dinner. You didn't have to…"

Wade scoffed. "Come on, kid. You look like you can't even feed yourself properly, let alone a food vacuum like me. I got it. I'm loaded anyway."

Peter flushed at the implication that he couldn't afford to eat properly. "Whatever…" He muttered, taking a cup for water and going to find them a table. Why was it that everyone Peter hung out with seemed to be filthy rich?

He settled into a seat by the window, not looking up when Wade slid into the seat across from him. There was silence for a minute, but it wasn't awkward. Not even when Wade started singing under his breath; something like "You make me… feel like I'm living a teenage dream… The way you turn me on… I can't sleep…"

Peter tried not to laugh, unsure if it was actually loud enough that he would plausibly hear it without super hearing.

Their names were called and they both got up to retrieve their food, Peter stopping at the fountain to fill his cup with water before sitting back down. By the time he got back to the table, Wade had already eaten most of one taco.

He grinned as he slid into his seat. "You weren't kidding about that vacuum comment."

Wade shook his head seriously. "Mm mm." He finished it off with one more bite and started opening a chimichanga. Peter started in on his nachos, resisting the urge to moan at how fantastic it tasted when he took the first bite. They ate in silence for a minute, just enjoying the food.

"So, who punched you in the face?"

Peter looked up at Wade, his eyes widening slightly. "Huh?" Clearly, a professional fighter like Deadpool would know a shiner when he saw one. "Oh, um… just some kid at school." He looked back down at his nachos, willing his cheeks not to turn red. At least the bruise was probably faded to an unpleasant greenish-yellow now. Bruises only lasted a matter of hours on the surface of Peter's skin.

"You know what you should do next time?" Peter glanced back up, quite apprehensive about whatever Wade was about to say.

"What?" He asked hesitantly.

"Just punch him in the balls." Peter snorted a laugh. As if… But god, that would be hilarious. "No, I'm serious. You only have to do that once and they'll lay off for the rest of time."

Peter just shook his head. "It's not exactly that simple." Not when he could end up making Flash infertile or permanently knocking his balls into his body. Although both of those possibilities sounded pretty good to him. "Besides." He smirked at Wade. "Who said it was a guy?"

Wade chuckled. "You're saying a girl clocked you? Not that girls can't throw mean punches. Trust me, they can. I know from first hand experience. Plus, you know, I'm not sexist or anything. I bet girls can punch harder than guys, actually. They're probably way better at it."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Well, it wasn't a girl. But it _could_ have been. I did manage to upset one recently." He looked back at his nachos, picking at them half-heartedly as he thought about MJ. He hadn't thought about her all afternoon, and that just made him feel more guilty.

"Aw… Is wittle Petey having girl troubles?"

Peter shot him a glare. "No." He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at Wade. "Just a… misunderstanding." Did that count as girl troubles? It didn't matter. Peter hurried to change the subject because he really didn't want to talk about this with Deadpool of all people. "So, what do you do? For your job?" He took a bite of food, curious as to what Wade's cover story was.

Wade just shrugged, refocusing on his food as well. He spoke through a full mouth, making Peter's nose wrinkle slightly in distaste. "I do contract work."

Peter cocked his head to the side, interested. "What kind?"

"Military." Wade stated his answer in a way that left no room for more questions. Peter was impressed.

"I see." He mused on that, staring out the window as he munched on more nachos. It was clean, simple, and discreet. A perfect cover. Peter needed to think of one of those… Except he didn't really because there was no doubt that he'd always need to have a normal job in addition to his hero activities. He didn't exactly get paid for swinging around the city at night.

"You're doing well, you know."

Peter glanced back at Wade, confused by his suddenly bitter tone of voice. "Hm?"

Wade was looking down, the shadow of his hood falling over his eyes. "I know I'm not pretty to look at, but you're hiding your disgust well. If you hadn't shown your hand when you first saw me, I'd almost think you didn't notice. Or didn't care."

Peter flushed with dark, hot shame. "Wade…"

"No, it's fine." His gaze flickered over Peter, then away, distant and guarded, resigned. "I'm used to it."

Peter felt like his heart might be breaking.

" _Wade_." Peter reached out, brushing his fingers over Wade's gloved hand where it lay on the table. Wade looked down at their hands as if Peter had just touched him with a dead fish. "I don't care about your fucking skin."

And he meant it. In that moment, Peter realized that he really _didn't_ care. Sure, it was shocking at first. And the scars really did seem to be everywhere (although Peter tried to keep himself from imagining the rest of Wade's body, which was difficult since he could see pretty much everything through Deadpool's skin-tight suit). But Wade's skin wasn't what made him Wade. Even in their short time together, Peter could tell that he was so, so much more than that. The scars didn't even keep Peter from finding Wade attractive, he was surprised to realize.

He stared defiantly into Wade's eyes, trying to seem honest and reassuring, and Wade looked back at him with confusion and suspicion and maybe a little bit of hope.

That was enough for now.

Peter pulled back with a small smile and started eating again, letting Wade sit in silence for a little while. It was probably pretty busy in his head right now.

After a minute, Wade cleared his throat and started in on his last taco, the rest of his food having already disappeared into his cavernous stomach. "So what do the kids do for fun these days?" He asked around a mouthful of taco, not quite meeting Peter's eyes.

Peter shrugged, allowing Wade to move on as if the last part of their conversation hadn't happened. "I don't know. I'm not really your typical kid, I guess." He smiled wryly at that. Most teenagers probably felt the same way, but Peter thought that maybe his claim had a little more validity than most. He picked up his last nacho and took a bite, chewing while he thought about it. "I do homework, mostly. And I have an internship in a research lab that keeps me pretty busy."

Wade grinned, already balling up his empty taco wrapper and letting it fall onto his empty tray. "You're a nerd. I knew it."

Peter rolled his eyes, his neck feeling a little warm, but he couldn't exactly deny it.

"It's the glasses." Wade said seriously, nodding to himself. "Very nerd hipster."

Peter chuckled. People always fixated on the glasses, but it worked out well that way. It was probably the only disguise he needed to keep his secret identity solid. "So I've heard." He admitted.

Wade smiled at him, and Peter smiled back. He thought maybe they could be friends. It was a strange thought, but a shockingly potent one. He, Peter Parker, AKA Spider-Man, wanted to be friends with Wade Wilson, AKA Deadpool, with a fierceness that was entirely unexpected and illogical.

"Well… This has been a blast. Like, Space Mountain level, which is pretty good. Hey - Space Mountain is totally the best ride at Disney World." Peter had a feeling those last words weren't directed at him. "But I better get going."

Wade started to push back his chair, but Peter halted him with a slightly desperate "Wait!" He'd just realized he had no way of finding Wade Wilson again, except maybe through his friend Al, but Aunt May had said Wade didn't visit her that often. Peter leaned down to dig in his backpack, pulling out a notebook and a pen. He ripped a page from the notebook haphazardly, ending up with a jagged two-thirds page, which he folded in half and pressed onto the table to write on. He jotted down his name and phone number, hesitating only briefly before holding it out to Wade.

Wade was looking at his hand like it was a dead fish again. "Um… Look, kid. This has been fun. Like, you're really funny. Seriously, great pity dinner. Or apology. Whatever. And don't get me wrong, you definitely have the sexy nerd thing going on and your ass is almost as hot as Spider-Man's, but… You're kind of young for me."

Peter blushed furiously, and knowing that his face looked like a ripe tomato only made him more embarrassed. "N-No… I'm not… I just thought we could be friends." He stubbornly kept holding the paper out. "You're fun to hang with, too. That's all."

Wade had that look in his eye again, like he was trying to figure out whether Peter was fucking with him, but he finally reached out and took Peter's contact info. "Oh-kay…" He drew the word out, looking down at the paper as if Peter had written something much more interesting on it.

"Yeah. So… I guess the ball's in your court." Peter smiled, trying to make the exchange less awkward.

Wade just shook his head slightly, muttering something like, "Friends with a teenager… It is a new low." Then, with a slight smile. "Or maybe I'm just starting a trend, here."

Peter cleared his throat quietly, gathering up his tray as he prepared to leave. That seemed to get Wade's attention. "Alright, Peter Parker." Wade pushed back from the table, tucking the paper into his pocket, and stood as Peter did the same. "If I ever need a late night taco buddy or the opinion of a nerdy teenage boy, I'll call you."

Peter grinned. "Sounds good. Except… Don't call me in the middle of the night. Aunt May worries if she hears the phone too late." Not to mention, it might be a bit troublesome if Wade/Deadpool was trying to contact him while he was out as Spider-Man. He didn't want the clever mercenary connecting any of the dots.

Wade nodded. "Will do. Kind woman, your Aunt."

Peter nodded, too, quite solemnly. "She really is. But she works too hard."

Wade smiled sadly. "Don't all the kind people?"

Peter supposed there was some sad, but beautiful truth in that. "Yeah." He agreed softly, looking into Wade's bright blue eyes. God, how had he never known that these eyes were hiding under Deadpool's mask?

Wade cleared his throat and broke their gaze. "Alright then. See you around, kid."

"See you." Peter let Wade leave first, watching him walking out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk, which was bathed in the orangey glow of the setting sun. As soon as he had passed through the doors and entered the outside world, Wade's shoulders had hunched as he bent his head and tucked his hands into the pocket of his Spidey sweatshirt.

It made Peter's chest ache.

He got all the way home, two subway rides and forty minutes later, before he realized he hadn't thought about Harry or MJ in hours.

Fuck. What was he supposed to do about that? It was gong to be hard to think of a solution if his every waking moment was so preoccupied by thoughts of Wade Wilson and his blue eyes and his stupid revealing costume.

For once, Peter was glad to have the night off from Spider-Man. It gave him time to think. Even if all he accomplished was deciding to ask Wade why he liked Spider-Man so much the next time he saw the mercenary outside their masks.

Peter actually went to bed when his Aunt got home. And he slept like a rock. And his side didn't hurt him at all.

Deadpool really had done a good job stitching him up.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
Disappear - Demo Version - Mikky Ekko  
Lyrics:  
Teenage Dream - Katy Perry

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	6. I'd Sell My Soul for Something Pure

**Wade**

 **[White]** **  
** **{Yellow}**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Hey, hey! You, you! I don't like your girlfriend." Wade sang cheerfully, and loudly, as he skipped down the street, drawing the usual stares.

{No way, no way, think you need a new one.}

"Hey, hey! You, you!" He reached out to young woman walking along the sidewalk, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her lightly. She shrieked. "I could be your girlfriend!"

The man she'd been walking with started yelling and hitting Wade on the arm, trying to separate him from the girl, but Deadpool just laughed, releasing her with no trouble and continuing on his merry way.

{Hey, hey! You, you! I know that you like me!}

[No way. No way.]

{No, it's not a secret!}

"Hey, hey! You, you! I want to be your girlfriend." Wade ducked into an alley and hoisted himself up onto the nearest fire escape, beginning his climb up to the roof still humming lightly to himself.

It was Tuesday night. He was going to meet Spider-Man at _their_ spot. And _nothing_ could ruin his mood.

Nope. Not even his failed attempts to identify whatever nasty bastard was trying to revamp Weapon X.

{Hey. I thought we weren't thinking about that tonight!}

[We're not. The writers just need to recap what's been going on so our stupid readers don't get lost.]

{STOP STEALING MY THING. And don't insult the readers. We wouldn't exist without them.}

[…You are probably very nice, readers. Please, keep enjoying this story. This utterly ridiculous side-tracking aside.]

{That's better. Now where were we?}

Wade had failed to find any of the slimy snakes who'd been asking after Weapon X information.

{Oh, right.}

He'd spent all of Sunday and half of Monday following all the leads Weasel had been able to give him, and all of them had led him to a big fat zilch. Nada. Nothing whatsoever. If he didn't trust his friend, and he was close to climbing onto the fence about that, he'd suspect that he was being strung along. It was quite frustrating, given that Wade was _really_ not used to failure in this area. Tracking down bad guys was what he did. Like for a living. And he was usually very, _very_ good at it.

[The best.]

{Really. The fucking best. They write stories about us.}

So, needless to say, Wade had been pissed. Pissed enough that he even stooped so low as to pay a visit to his least favorite blind old lady. He told himself it was just so he could ask her if she'd heard anything about these dickheads he was looking for.

[But really it's because he _missed_ her. The sensitive, clingy little man-child.]

{Whoa there, grumpy pants. Wade isn't little.}

"That I am not." Wade pulled himself up onto the roof of whatever building he'd climbed (he hadn't been paying much attention). "And you know I mean that in the only way that really counts!"

[Yes, yes. We all know you have a big dick.]

{Not just big. Wade has a PhD!}

Anyway. Al had been no help, as per usual. But then Wade ran into that sexy little piece of ass named Peter Parker, so maybe it hadn't been a complete waste of a trip. And the kid had been a total nerd, and probably not normal in the head since he'd asked Wade Wilson AKA Scarface to eat with him and then _hadn't_ puked his nachos all over the floor at the sight of that face consuming food. But whatever. He'd been pretty to look at for a while, and surprisingly funny. And witty. And nice.

{And those eyes…}

"Fucking chocolate candy Bambi eyes."

{And that ass…}

"Mm. That ass."

[Didn't we _not_ want to be pedophiles?]

{I think we decided sixteen was close enough to adulthood.}

[When did we decide that? And besides, how do we know Peter is sixteen? He seemed pretty young to me.]

{…He had a cell phone?}

[You clearly know nothing about kids.]

And the kid gave Wade his phone number, which practically made him certifiable all on its own. Wade hadn't had the guts to use it yet, if he ever would, but he was pretty sure it was fake. If it wasn't fake, then Peter Parker either had the most overgrown pity-organ in the whole world, or he had some serious childhood trauma that made him immune to the terror that was Wade's horror-movie skin. Wade was hoping for the latter, although that was pretty selfish of him.

He glanced around for the direction he should be heading in. There it was, the giant silver skyscraper jutting proudly up above the skyline like a huge, shiny penis with 'Bank of America' tattooed in glowing lights across the head. It was fantastic.

"Itsy bitsy spider, here I come!" Wade started making his way across the rooftops, following the shining beacon of hope and glory that was 'their spot' as he took running leaps between the tightly packed buildings. Occasionally he'd have to climb a fire escape to a taller building or jump down a few floors when the rooftops didn't line up. He sprained his ankles a few times, but that was no big deal. Those things healed faster than rabbits fucked.

When he finally made it to the roof of the hotel next door, Wade was pleasantly winded. "Nothing like a nice rooftop romp to get the blood flowing!"

{Or a romp between the sheets!}

[You prefer romping in less conventional places than that, Yellow.]

{Why, yes… Yes I do. Remember that time in the Toys R Us?}

[This is why people will think we're pedophiles.]

{Well we weren't fucking the _kids_ … Just the cashier.}

[Back when Wade didn't look like his skin got stuck in a blender and turned on high.]

Wade sighed, officially done with this conversation, and stared up at the smooth expanse of the side of 'their' building. Leave it to Spidey to pick one of the tallest spots in the city. Maybe he forgot that Deadpool couldn't climb walls with his bare hands and banks have killer security. But it didn't matter; Wade liked a challenge.

{Why were we in a kids' toy store anyway?}

[Wade really wanted the newest World Barbie.] White's tone was scathing. [You were always a bit off your rocker, weren't you?]

"Hey, those things are collectables. And you learn as you play!" Wade took a scope from his utility belt and held it up to his eye, scanning the edge of the roof for obstacles. It seemed clear, so apparently Bank of America wasn't concerned about people climbing ninety stories on the outside of the building to get onto the roof. "How do you two know about all that shit anyway?" He'd always been bugged by the fact that the boxes knew all of his life before he lost his marbles, too.

[Does no one else understand that we are _in Wade's head_?]

Making his decision, Wade tucked the scope away and pulled out two hand-held suction cups. These babies were military-grade, the same shit the Navy Seals used. He strapped them on his hands and checked them on the surface of the roof. Perfect suction. He released them again with a press of his thumbs to the buttons on the sides, and backed up for a running start.

He was gonna do this Spidey-style.

"Bon voyage, mother fuckers!" Wade yelled gleefully as he took off, pushing away from the edge of the roof and leaping towards the shiny bank. He landed hard, the breath knocked out of him by the impact as his body bounced against the glass, but the suction cups caught and held. He risked a glance downwards, grinning at how tiny everything already looked on the street below. He started climbing.

{Don't fall!} Yellow advised cheerfully.

The fall would certainly kill him. But that wasn't really a problem. The problem would be delaying his meeting with his favorite little spider. So he wouldn't fall.

Wade found a rhythm, attaching and releasing and pulling himself upwards one hand at a time. Good thing he was built as fuck and could easily move his considerable body weight using just his arms. It was taking a little longer than he'd thought it would, since the building was even taller than it looked, so he kicked it into gear and moved a little faster up the last few stories.

{Don't want to keep Spidey waiting!}

[If he's even gonna be there.]

{Shut up. You're such a pessimist. Spider _said_ he would meet us, and he's too nice to break his word.}

"That's right." Wade grunted, pulling himself up to the last glass-sided floor of the skyscraper. His spider wouldn't lie. He was only a couple feet from the roof when something red popped out over the edge, eliciting a startled "Huh!" from Wade.

"Need some help?" Spider-Man's head tipped adorably to one side, and Wade was glad he hadn't lost his grip and fallen to his death. That would have been inconvenient.

"Jesus Christ on a popsicle stick. You could've killed me, Spidey-Boy!" Wade released one hand and reached up to take Spidey's extended arm. He resisted the urge to moan some nasty words as Spider-Man lifted him up and onto the ledge as if he weighed no more than a little black kitten. He stood up straight, a good six inches taller than Spidey, and pretended to brush himself off. "What were you tryin' to do, Hans Gruber me?"

"You _wish_ you could be Alan Rickman in Die Hard."

The grin in Spidey's voice made Wade's heart soar. "I _do_ wish that!" He did his fan girl voice. "Oh my god you totally get me!" Unable to contain himself, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Spidey's waist, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around a couple of times. He figured the little hero wouldn't want to be in his arms too long, even though he wasn't pushing Wade away or knocking him over the head for being such a handsy asshole.

[Seriously. Can we talk about the pedophile issue again?]

{Shut up, already. No one cares.}

So Wade set Spidey back on the ground, but was surprised to find the kid laughing breathlessly, his hands trailing down Wade's arms before dropping away as they separated. Suddenly, it was kind of hard for Wade to breath. He wanted to grab Spidey again. He wanted to wrap the kid up in his arms and clutch him close just to feel that body on his one more time. But he was already toeing the line… He'd decided that being attracted to a sixteen year old wasn't the worst thing in the world, and a little flirting never hurt anyone, but he was going to do his best to keep his hands off the merchandise.

{The fine, fine merchandise… I still say it doesn't matter. We should just fuck him, laws be damned. Since when have we cared about the law anyway?}

[We care about not hurting kids.]

{…Whatever.}

Suddenly, Wade remembered something. "Oh fucking hell! Fuck me with a chainsaw. Shit Spidey, I forgot. How's your side, Baby Boy?" He reached for Spider-Man without thinking, running his fingers along his tight little waist until he felt the edge of his suit and pulled it up to check the bandaging. There wasn't any, just a thin red line, like a newly closed wound. His body must have rejected the stitches as he healed; that was good.

Spider-Man went still, letting Wade look him over even though it sounded like he was holding his breath. "It's, um… Fine, really. Almost completely healed." His voice was a bit strained, so after Wade had sufficiently determined that Spidey was going to make a full and spectacular recovery, he tugged the suit back down and stepped away, giving the boy his space.

[See… He doesn't want us touching him.]

Wade nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach at White's undeniable reminder. Yellow hadn't even argued. "That's great, Spidey. Now you can get back to webbing up all the bad little bugs." Wade dropped down to sit on the ledge, dangling his legs over the side, and patted the cement next to him. "Come sit, stay a while." It didn't take long for the spider to sink down gracefully beside Wade, and he tried not to stare, looking out over the gorgeous view instead. "Catch any yet tonight?"

Spidey shook his head. "No, not yet. I came straight here." Wade couldn't help but smile at that.

"Sorry if I kept you waiting. Not all of us can skitter up walls like… Well, spiders."

{Wow. You're so clever.}

"Shut up." He glanced sheepishly at Spidey. "Not you."

Spider-Man chuckled lightly. "I know." He glanced out over the buildings below. "How about we meet there, instead?" He was pointing down to the hotel Wade had started at: a nice Hilton.

Wade shook his head. "I don't wanna drag you down, Spidey-Boy. Besides, you're so worth the effort to get up here. Like climbing Rapunzel's tower."

[As if we weren't creepy enough.]

{Hey, Rapunzel is cool!}

"You won't be dragging me down, Pool." Spider-Man's voice was firm, leaving no room for debate. "I _want_ to meet on that roof from now on, okay?"

Wade smirked beneath his mask. "Whatever you say, Baby Boy."

Spidey looked away, almost immediately shifting in his seat as if suddenly uncomfortable. Wade knew he shouldn't like the way Spidey reacted to that pet name… But he couldn't help it. He must really be a sick bastard, because watching the little spider squirm was such a turn on.

{Mm, and he squirms so nicely…}

[He'd squirm nicely tied down to a table, too.]

{Yessss….} Yellow's hiss of agreement was filled with desire, and Wade could feel his body beginning to react against his will.

Nope nope nope. Too far. Wade cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away again. "Did you fix your suit? The web shooter, I mean?" He figured the tear could just be sewn up, but he wondered if those things on Spidey's wrists that allowed him to shoot his badass webs were difficult to replace. Had he needed to go to Tony Stark to have them fixed? Something inside Wade burned just a little bit at that thought.

"Wow, you're observant." Spidey sounded surprised, and Wade scoffed as he shook his head.

"Everyone always seems so shocked. It _is_ kind of my job, you know. I notice things." He reached out with one hand and tapped at Spidey's left wrist. "So did you fix it?"

Spidey nodded, turning his arm over to look at the inside of his wrist, where Wade could see a small, sleek little box inside the sleeve. "Yeah. It just got fried from that charge Green Goblin released. I fiddled around with it some and got it back online."

"Smarty pants." Wade accused, although he was secretly endeared.

[Since when do you like nerds so much?]

{Just one nerd, idiot. Spider-Man is a very special case.}

[What about that Peter Parker kid? You thought he was sexy, too.]

{Okay, well…. Shut up.}

[Very eloquent. You have persuaded me with your intelligent arguments and valid points.]

"Deadpool?" Wade snapped his head down to look at Spidey, realizing with a light flush that he must have been spacing out.

"Sorry. What?"

Spidey shook his head. "I didn't say anything. You just… Looked like you were distracted. Like too much was going on in your head."

Wade chuckled. "You have no fucking idea, kid." If he did, he wouldn't be hanging around the insane mercenary. He shouldn't be, anyway, but Wade was too selfish to tell him that.

Spider-Man brought his hands to his lap and fiddled with his fingers almost nervously. He looked like he was trying to work up the courage to say something.

[Oh god… Here it comes.]

{He's gonna ask about us. I love it when people ask about us!}

Wade swallowed, bracing himself for the questions that would surely draw their pseudo-friendship to a close. They hadn't lasted nearly as long as he would have liked, but there was nothing for it. He just couldn't hide his crazy.

"They have names, right?" Wade blinked in surprise, completely thrown off by _that_ particular question. "Like, colors?" He glanced at the mercenary when he didn't receive an answer. "The, um, voices you hear?" He sounded nervous now. "I thought I heard you… Sorry. Never mind."

Wade shook his head slowly. "No… You're right. It's just, now _I'm_ surprised by how observant _you_ are." Spidey was looking down at his lap again, and Wade sighed. He didn't exactly relish the idea of introducing Spidey to the deranged boxes in his head, but he couldn't deny the kid anything. "There're two. White and Yellow."

{Ohmygod!} Yellow squealed obnoxiously. {Spider-Man knows my name!}

[Your name is a color. Spider-Man has known it since he was two.]

{Don't spoil my fun, sour puss.}

Wade watched Spidey carefully, waiting for the moment when it finally sunk in that Deadpool was batshit crazy, full on mentally ill. He belonged in some sort of facility where he couldn't hurt anyone but himself.

[Shut up about that.] White growled. [We all know you couldn't handle being locked up again.]

Wade knew White was right, but that didn't change the facts of the matter. The world would be safer without Wade Winston Wilson running free, wreaking his particular brand of havoc. So he was sure that when Spidey realized all of this, and he would because he was a smart kid, he'd want to stay as far away from Deadpool as possible. So Wade was surprised, to say the least, when Spider-Man just nodded, as if it was perfectly normal that the voices in his head had names. And that those names were colors. He wouldn't get into the whole box thing with Spidey because that was just… Disturbing. He didn't need the kid thinking about the fact that they were just characters in a story, doomed to be puppets on strings for all of eternity. Or thinking that Wade was losing his shit for saying so.

"Are they there… all the time?" Spidey sounded curious, not disturbed. And Wade was starting to question whether Spider-Man was all there himself. First the kid from the nursing home, now New York's favorite neighborhood hero? What was happening to the kids these days?

{Yes sir, we are! We're here! All the time! Nonstop! Twenty-four hours a day seven days a week fifty-two weeks a year! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH I'M TALKING TO SPIDEY!}

[SHUT UP HE CAN'T HEAR YOU.]

Wade winced. "Unfortunately." He took a small breath. "Except when I die. But they always come back."

Spidey tipped his head to the side, and if Wade wasn't convinced that he couldn't tell what the spider was thinking beneath that mask, he'd say the kid almost looked concerned. "Are they bothering you right now?"

Wade left out a weak, helpless laugh, shaking his head. "Are they… Ha, kid, they do nothing but bother me."

[That's rude.]

{Yeah, that's no way to talk to your best friends! We're with you through thick and thin.}

[Blood and guts.]

{Killing and dying and all that shit!}

[That's all you do, after all. Kill and torture and hurt people.]

Wade wanted to tell the boxes that now was _not_ the right time to start, but he was suddenly very aware of speaking to them in front of Spidey, so he kept his mouth shut.

{It's your one talent!}

[And you love it… So don't pretend that you're really any different from us.]

A gentle touch on his arm pulled Wade's attention away, and he looked down at Spidey questioningly. He probably wouldn't ever get used to the hero's tentative physical contact. Spider-Man didn't say anything. He just curled his fingers around Wade's forearm and shifted to face the mercenary, drawing one knee up to his chest while the other remained dangling over the drop off.

Wade's breath caught in his throat as Spidey leaned in slightly, looking him straight in the eyes (or at least, straight in the eye patches of his mask). It felt like he was looking right into Wade's mind. "White? Yellow?" Wade froze, feeling the boxes' shock at being addressed directly. He watched with widening eyes as Spidey's jaw set. "Stop it." He said firmly.

There was silence.

Wade held his breath, listening to his heart beat in his ears, listening for something else, anything else… There was nothing.

"Ho… Ly… Shit…" Wade breathed the words out on a whisper, afraid to break the spell by speaking. Or moving.

He kept waiting. Nothing.

"Oh my god."

"Did it work? Did they stop?" Wade stared at Spidey's hopeful face, and he felt something snapping inside of him. This boy… This beautiful fucking amazing hero… He was… And Wade… Wade was in awe of him. And he realized, with a small twinge of terror but mostly just an ocean of resignation, that he was completely and utterly smitten with the kid.

"Yeah," he breathed. "It worked." Spidey probably didn't know how fucking amazing that was, but Wade did. Nothing he'd ever tried had shut the boxes up. Nothing except putting a bullet through his brain.

"Good." Spidey leaned back, releasing Wade's arm with an air of satisfaction.

Wade still couldn't stop staring. And it felt bizarre to have his head to himself. Too… empty. Too quiet. But he was going to relish every second of it anyway. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, Spidey staring out at the view and Wade staring shamelessly at Spidey.

{Oh my god.} Yellow's voice was muted, as if he was afraid to speak louder than a murmur. {He talked to us.}

[No one has done that before.]

Well, it was nice while it lasted. Wade wasn't complaining; just that minute of quiet had been more than he could have ever hoped for. Spider-Man was a fucking miracle worker.

{It's our Spidey… He's special. Oh my god. He talked to us!}

[Yes, Ditto. We know.]

{No. HE TALKED TO US!} Wade tried not to wince at the sudden yell, very loud after the quiet. {OH MY GOD WE CAN TALK TO HIM WE CAN TALK TO SPIDEY WADE WADE TELL HIM WHAT WE'RE SAYING LET US TALK TO SPIDEY!}

Wade frowned, shaking his head slightly because he didn't want to let Spidey know they were back. But no fucking way. No way in hell he was ever letting these psychos talk to Spider-Man.

{YES YOU WILL! YOU WILL LET US TALK TO HIM OR I SWEAR TO GOD WE'LL MAKE YOUR LIFE SUCH HELL YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA. IT'LL BE WORSE THAN WE'VE EVER DONE, WORSE THAN WEAPON FUCKING X.}

Wade closed his eyes, took a deep breath, tried to ignore Yellow.

{I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD WADE YOU LET US TALK TO HIM RIGHT THIS INSTANT. WE NEVER GET TO TALK TO ANYONE EXCEPT FUCKING YOU AND WE FUCKING HATE YOU GODDAMNIT WADE LET US TALK TO SPIDEY!}

Wade clenched his jaw, settling in for whatever Yellow was about to do to punish his silence, but he was surprised to hear White join in, albeit much less loudly.

[Yellow's right. And you know I don't say that lightly. We never get to talk to anyone but you, you fucked up monster.]

{THAT'S FUCKING RIGHT. SO LET US TALK TO HIM OR WE'LL START SCREAMING! AND THINKING ABOUT FUCKING SPIDEY! AND KILLING HIM!}

[Making him scream. Bleed. Fucking him silly on this roof with a knife to his throat.]

{We'll do it, too. We'll make you do it. You know we can, Wade.}

A thrill of fear shot through him, and he let out a choked whimper, his fingers clutching painfully at the tops of his thighs. He tried to cover up the unintentional noise with a cough, but he'd drawn Spidey's attention anyway.

The kid was looking at him now, and Wade didn't like the way it felt like those sharp spider eyes could see right through Deadpool's mask.

"Are they bothering you again?"

Wade shook his head mutely.

{FUCK YES WE ARE. YES WE ARE SPIDEY WE WANT TO TALK TO YOU!}

[Let us talk to him, Wade. You know we'll do it. We don't make idle threats.]

Wade shook his head again, clenching his mouth shut tight, and his eyes too for good measure. He could resist the boxes… He'd done it before.

[True. But think of all the times you _couldn't_ resist us. All those times you followed when we told you to… Sliced when we told you to… Killed when we told you to.]

{That's right, Weakling Wade. You're our bitch. Wanna find out what we can make you do?}

[I doubt Spidey will like it… He'd probably much prefer to simply talk to us. It would save him a lot of unnecessary pain, in the end.]

Wade swallowed, heart sinking into his stomach. He was going to have to run. If he got far enough away fast enough, they couldn't make him do anything to Spider-Man. And gods, that really sucked balls. He'd been having such a nice night, and Spidey was being so goddamn perfect…

Another gentle touch on his arm made Wade almost jump out of his skin. "What are they saying?"

Wade's eyes flew open so he could look sideways at Spidey's earnest mask. The boy had moved a bit closer to him - close enough that Wade could hear his breath light and even through the mask.

{See! HE WANTS TO TALK TO US!}

Wade cleared his throat. "They, um… They want to talk to you." Well, there he goes. This would be Spidey's breaking point. He'd been weirdly accepting up until now, but asking someone to talk to the voices in your head? That was definitely crossing the line of sanity. It was way over the line. It was so far over the line, the line looked like a dot.

"Okay." Wade's eyes widened in shock. He almost wanted to shake the kid, to see if he could hear the loose screws in his head. Then again, who the hell was Wade Wilson to judge, of all people? "What do they want to say?"

Wade blinked, tipped his head to the side, waited. Nothing. He frowned, irritated with the boxes' sudden lack of non-stop chatter. He turned away slightly and mumbled impatiently under his breath. "Well? Here's your fucking chance. _One thing each_ and that's fucking it. I'm not going back and forth like a fucking translator all fucking night."

More silence. Wade huffed, really getting pissed now. "Come _on_. You were just so fucking eager-"

{Hold your seahorses, Jesus tit fucker. We're fucking thinking.}

[It's a very important choice, since we only get to say one thing each.] White's tone was scathing.

Wade frowned slightly, caught off guard by the boxes' consideration. They were treating this extremely differently than they treated Wade every waking moment of every day. He turned back to Spidey with an apologetic frown that the kid probably couldn't see. "Sorry." He muttered. "They're, um… Thinking." He sounded like a fucking loon.

Spidey just nodded as if he understood.

Finally, Yellow spoke up. He sounded almost bashful, which was a whole new kind of weird for Wade. {Tell him… Tell him I think he's really pretty. And I like it when he jumps off buildings.}

[Oh my god…]

"I am _not_ telling him that." Wade hissed.

{Hey! You said one thing each! DON'T FUCKING MAKE ME-}

"Fine! Okay, fine. Fucking hell." Wade took deep breath and prepared for this to get very awkward, very fast. "Yellow wants to tell you… That, um… He thinks you're, uh… Pretty. And he likes when you jump off buildings." Wade reached up to rub at the back of his neck self-consciously.

There was a terrible moment of silence before Spidey let out a small, breathy laugh. "Okay… Well, thanks, Yellow. I, um, I like to jump off buildings. It's fun."

Wade stared. This kid…. Fuck.

{Oh my god I FUCKING LOVE YOU SPIDEY! WADE TELL HIM I LOVE HIM!}

Wade just shook his head minutely. "Okay, then… White?" He muttered.

There was another moment of silence. [Tell him… He should be careful with us. We're dangerous, and he's bound to get hurt.]

Wade was stunned.

{Oh em gee! Are you starting to like Spidey, too? I knew you would! I knew you'd fall for him.}

[No…] White hissed. [I still want to slice him up. That's exactly why… You know what, I've changed my mind. Tell him we want to-]

Wade shook his head. "No no no. No take backs." It was actually a very good thing to say. Spidey should know what he was getting himself into. Wade took another deep breath, stealing himself for a different reason this time. He turned to look steadily into Spider-Man's upturned mask.

"White says you should be careful with us. We're not good. We're dangerous, and we hurt people. We'll hurt you too, eventually."

[…You elaborated.]

Whatever. Wade waited, holding his breath, while Spidey seemed to really consider what he had said.

"Thank you, White. I'll be careful. But…" Spidey tipped his head slightly to the side like an adorable little red puppy. "I'm not worried." There was a gentleness in his voice that made Wade ache. "I think you're a better person than you think you are."

Wade shook his head slowly, but he didn't argue. There would be plenty of time for Spider-Man to figure out on his own just how bad of a person Deadpool was. And he was too selfish to help that realization along any further tonight.

There was silence again as they stared at each other. It wasn't awkward, and that in and of itself was amazing. Finally, the solemnness of the moment was getting to be too much for Wade. He thought he might try to kiss the kid if this went on too much longer. Or start crying. And neither option sounded like fun. (Well, the first one did, but this one-sided crush was going to stay safely in the no-touchy zone.) So he cleared his throat and looked away, out over the city.

{Kiss him! Kiss him!}

Wade ignored Yellow. "Did you ever figure out your friend problems? The whole 'something was going on and I didn't know it was going on and I did something wrong and now my friends won't talk to me even though I'm the cutest damn thing this side of solar system so they're clearly crazy for harboring any negative feelings towards me at all' birthday fiasco?"

Spider-Man laughed, and Wade glowed just a little bit. "Um, kind of… But not really." His smile clearly faded from his voice as he went on. "One of them still won't talk to me. It's totally my fault though, because I'm too much of a coward to explain things to her."

Wade raised his eyebrows beneath his mask. "You? The amazing Spider-Man? A coward?"

{Never!} Yellow gasped.

Spidey sighed. "Yeah, well… It's a different story without the mask on."

"I feel that." Wade nodded. "What about the other friend?"

Spider-Man shifted slightly, fidgeting with the fabric on one of his pant-legs. "Um… We're not fighting anymore. I thought he liked my other friend… But when I told him that I wasn't speaking to my other friend, he was surprised. And then-"

Wade cut him off with a frantic wave of his hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. If you want me to understand this story at all, you need to give these mystery friends of yours some names."

Spidey nodded. "Right, um… We'll call the first one M-Martha… And the second one… Herald."

Wade snorted. "Those are the worst fake names I ever heard. Where did you get them, eighteen-twenty?"

Spidey shook his head, but Wade thought he could see a smile beneath that mask. "Anyway… Martha and I aren't speaking because she, um… likes me. But I don't think I like her back. And Herald was mad because he thought Martha and I were getting together. So I thought he liked _Martha_."

[Oh my god. This is so high school musical.]

{Shut up! It's fascinating!}

It was a little juvenile. But even more immature than the story was the twinge of jealousy Wade felt upon hearing that someone else was crushing on his Spidey.

{Well, who wouldn't crush on him? He's fucking hot. And sweet as honey. And kick ass, to boot.}

That was all true. Even White didn't argue.

"But, um… When I told Herald that I didn't like Martha back, he stopped being mad. And he… Well, he kind of… Told me that he liked _me_. Not her. And now we're not fighting, but I'm really confused about what-"

Wade shook his head, his brain having gotten stuck about two sentences ago. "Wait. Hold up. Spidey, are you gay?"

Spidey seemed to shift uncomfortably, folding and unfolding his hands in his lap as he stared down. "N-No…. I mean, I don't know…" His voice was adorably quiet and unsure. "I've liked girls before. But I…." He hesitated, and Wade watched his neck as he visibly swallowed. The next words came out in a rush. "I kissed a guy and I liked it."

Yellow screamed. {HOOOOOLLLYYYYY FUUUUUCK. FUCK. YES.}

[Calm the fuck down. Just because likes guys doesn't mean he would ever like _us_. Besides, still sixteen, remember? No touchy.]

Wade nodded easily, trying to ignore the boxes so he could stay calm. Spidey seemed surprisingly vulnerable here. "Sure, sure. No pressure, or anything. You can be whatever. You could be bi, or pan, or a fucking unicorn. No big deal."

{Holy shit tits are we helping Spider-Man discover his sexuality? Ohmygod. Make him gay. MAKE HIM GAY!}

[That's not how it works.]

Spidey ducked his head, and Wade thought it should be illegal to look that damn cute. "Thanks… I know. I'm just… Still thinking it all through, I guess."

"Think away, Baby Boy. You're young. No rush, you know?" He watched as Spidey nodded. He wished they were sitting a little closer so maybe he could press his arm up against Spidey's shoulder.

[Stop that. No touching.]

{Spoilsport…}

Wade sighed. Spider-Man glanced up at him. "You do anything fun over the last couple days? You know, since saving my life and all?"

Wade shrugged. He couldn't exactly tell him about the jobs he'd completed or the manhunt he'd begun. The failed manhunt.

{No thinking about it! We're with Spidey! We have to be happy!}

"Right." Wade kicked his feet back and forth over the edge. "Uh… I made some experimental taco pancakes. They didn't turn out so well."

Spidey snorted. "I can imagine. That's like the worst food combination since fried ice cream."

Wade let out a shocked gasp, raising one hand to his clutch over his heart. "You did _not_ just say that. Fried ice cream is the literal shit!"

It almost looked like Spidey was rolling his eyes beneath that sexy mask. "Of course you would think that… You tried to make _taco pancakes_."

Wade grinned. "That I did. And next time I make 'em they're not gonna taste like feet!"

[Yeah, those things were nasty.]

{I liked them.}

Spidey made a playful retching sound and nudged Deadpool's shoulder with his own. Wade suddenly felt very warm.

{Oh, tell him about Peter!}

[That's a bad idea.]

{No it's not! Do it!}

Wade cleared his throat. "I, uh, met someone. I mean, not like… Just, I don't meet new people very often, you know. Before I started following you around like one of those giant, man-eating dogs that thinks it's still a puppy I'm pretty sure the only strangers I'd talked to in months were my marks…" Oh. Shit.

[Way to run your big mouth, asshole.]

"I mean… Just, um. Forget I said that." Wade took a deep breath and forced the rest out in a rush so he didn't have time to say more stupid things. "I met this kid at a nursing home and he was cool to me, which was weird, and he asked if I wanted tacos and I always want tacos and so I met a new person and his name is Peter."

{Smooth.}

"Hey. I _am_ smooth, assholes." He hissed under his breath. He risked a wary glance at Spider-Man, who was suddenly expressing some extreme interest in a non-existent thread on the pant leg of his suit. He seemed remarkably uninterested in Wade's little story.

{Maybe you made him uncomfortable mentioning all those people you kill.}

[Obviously.]

Spidey finally spoke up. "What were you doing in a nursing home?"

[ _That's_ what he chooses to ask about?]

{I fucking love this kid.}

"Oh, this old lady I know lives there. We're kind of like friends, but not really. Because I hate her fucking guts." Wade was feeling fidgety, so he pulled a small knife from his belt and began flipping it in his palm.

Spidey was looking at him again. "How do you know her?" He seemed pretty curious about that part, and Wade gave him an inquisitive look.

"Um…"

{Don't tell him!}

[No, I'm sure he'd love to know.] White's voice was thick with sarcasm. [Tell him about how we kidnapped her and held her prisoner for close to ten years. I'm sure Spider-Man would totally be on board with that.]

"No need to get nasty." Wade muttered. Then, raising his voice again. "We, uh, met through work." That was true, at least. "She… hired me." That was not true. But whatever. "And then she just wouldn't go away. She's kind of obsessed with me, you know. I'm like catnip to little old ladies."

Spidey laughed, and Wade grinned. He loved it when he could make his little spider smile. "You can put that on your resume."

Wade nodded. "Oh, I already have. 'Romancer of the elderly.' It's right between 'Dog whisperer' and 'Extreme stalking skills.'"

Spidey shook his head, laughing weakly. "What job are you trying to get, Red?" He quickly held up his hands, halting whatever Wade was about to respond with. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

{You sure don't!}

[He already knows what we do.]

Spider-Man grabbed Wade's left arm and lifted it towards him. Wade held his breath as Spidey turned his arm over to look at his wrist, reading the time from his watch. Wade looked too, realizing that they'd been sitting here for almost an hour.

{Time flies when you're having fun!}

[He's gonna say he needs to leave.]

"I should get to patrol." Spidey released Wade's arm, tone apologetic as he placed one hand on the ledge beside him and pushed up, rising gracefully to his feet.

[See? Sick of us already.]

Wade did the same, tucking his knife away before swinging his legs up onto the roof and practically jumping to his feet. "Sure. The good people of New York aren't gonna save themselves, right?" He swung his arms back and forth, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Well, this has been fun, Spidey-Boy. Maybe we can do it again sometime." He tried not to sound too hopeful. "You know, if you're around. And I'm around. Whatever."

Spidey looked up at Wade, raising one hand to rub at the back of his head as he seemed to consider something. "I was gonna ask if… If you want to come with me?"

Wade went still. "Come with you?"

{Like… With permission? Not just following him secretly like the creepy stalker we are?}

Spidey nodded. "Yeah. On patrol. You've had to save me twice already so clearly I could use the backup."

[He's just letting us tag along because he feels like he owes us.]

{At least he trusts us to watch his back!}

[You think he trusts us? He'll probably be on his toes all night, watching over his shoulder, waiting for us to snap.]

{He's _asking_ us to come. He clearly wants us to in some capacity.}

[Who would want an assassin to come with them to help save people? That's stupid.]

{Spidey isn't stupid!}

[Exactly. So he must have some ulterior motive.]

Yellow was quiet for a moment, considering. {What if… he wants to change us?} His tone was hurt.

[Wants to save us. That would be just like him.]

{Poor, poor Spidey… We can't be saved.}

[Obviously.]

"Deadpool?"

Wade blinked, suddenly realizing that he'd been standing still, staring at Spidey while he listened to the boxes' conversation in his head. "Um, sorry. Yeah, what? Patrol. Sure, okay."

He might as well go. Even if Spidey was just trying to make him better, or let him hang around out of pity, who was Wade to look a gift horse in the mouth? He got to spend more time with his favorite little spider and he might get to kick some ass while he did. It was a win-win. Even if Spider-Man would just end up disappointed in the end.

[He will.]

{Obviously.}

But Spidey looked happy for now, and that's all that really mattered. "Cool! Well, um… We should probably go down there." He nodded to the roof of the hotel, about twenty stories down. "I'll hear better if I'm not so far up."

"Sure, Spidey-Boy." Wade brought his hands to his hips. "And don't worry, okay? I won't let anyone snap any compromising pics of the two of us. It wouldn't be good for my rep, you know?" It would be worse for Spider-Man, and after what that lame-ass paper said about them, Wade was surprised Spidey was even willing to hang out with Deadpool, let alone be seen working with him.

Spidey shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I don't care what people know or what they think." He planted one hand on his hip and raised the other to rub at the back of his head, face turned up as if he were looking at the sky. "I kind of thought what that paper said about us was funny."

Wade gaped, his arms falling back to his sides. "Funny? They said you'd started taking jobs as a mercenary and I was fucking training you. And then they wondered if I was carrying you off to punish you for your failure."

[It is kind of funny.]

{Wish we'd been carrying him off to punish him in other ways…}

Spidey just chuckled, hand falling gracefully from his head to his side. "Yeah. It's ironic. Because I'm kind of training you, you know, to patrol with me." His voice dropped an octave, a warning suddenly entering his tone. "And I'm the one who will punish _you_ if you misbehave tonight."

Wade's mouth fell open, and a heated jolt of arousal traveled straight down to his dick.

{Oh…. Holy…. Fucking… Shit.}

[…Okay. I'll admit that's pretty hot.] White's voice sounded slightly strained.

Wade nodded mutely, and wondered if Spidey had any idea of the effect his words were having. Probably not. Because he had that whole pure, young and innocent thing going on. Which just made it even hotter.

Spidey nodded, too, and stepped to the very edge of the roof. "Let's go, then."

Wade pushed all thoughts of spider-punishments from his mind, because it would not do to be hindered by a certain… anatomical problem while he joined Spider-Man on patrol. He pulled out a grappling hook and a length of rope, flashing a grin. "Wanna race?"

Spider-Man looked startled for a moment, but then he laughed. "Sure. But don't cry when I kick your ass, Pool."

Wade smirked. "Sure, Spidey. Except I'm pretty sure it's gonna be your cute ass that's getting kicked."

"You know what?" He could hear the smirk in Spidey's tone. "I'm gonna let you get a head start, Deadpool. Just to be nice."

Oh, this was too good. "I won't need it. But I'm not a chivalrous guy, so I'll take it." And with that, he secured the hook on the inside edge of the ledge running the perimeter of the roof and threaded the rope through his belt. Then he stepped backwards to the edge and leaned out over it, shooting Spidey a grin before he went. "See you on the other side, little spider. Don't swallow too much of my dust on the way down." He let go, falling over the side back first. He free fell for a couple of seconds, then tightened his hands around the rope and let his feet scrape the wall, slowing his descent slightly. It wouldn't do to go splat, even if it meant he won. Because then he wouldn't get to go on patrol.

{Holy titties on toast - look!}

Wade glanced up in time to see Spider-Man leaping off the roof, form lithe and perfect as he tucked his body into a gorgeous, headfirst dive.

"Holy fuck."

{I think I just got hard.}

[You don't have corporeal form, idiot.]

Wade didn't even care about winning anymore. He just wanted to stare as Spidey cut through the air like the hottest skydiver ever. He passed Wade in a couple of seconds and waited until he was almost level with the Hilton roof before shooting a web at the building, pulling out of the dive to swing around and up, landing perfectly with cat-like grace in a crouch on the edge of the hotel.

Wade probably looked like a lumbering elephant in comparison, even as he came to a skillful halt across from the hotel roof, wrapped one hand around the rope, detached it from his belt, and pushed away hard from the wall so he could back flip onto the nearby ledge where Spidey perched. He landed with a huff.

"I call penalty. Because what you did should clearly be illegal."

Spidey just laughed, straightening out of his crouch and looking down at the busy street below.

"I mean seriously. If I had known you were-"

"Sh." Spider-Man cut him off gently, tipping his head to the side to indicate that he was listening to something. Wade forced his mouth shut, although it was difficult.

{Did you see him? Did you see how gorgeous he was?}

[It was… Mildly impressive.]

{Fuck you! That was the prettiest thing we've seen all year.}

[Prettier than the money launderer? He was quite the looker. Especially painted in such pretty, pretty red.]

{Oh yeah… He was gorgeous… But NOT PRETTIER THAN OUR SPIDEY!]

"Shut up." Wade hissed beneath his breath.

He caught a quiet, almost amused sigh from Spidey before the hero turned west, his posture settling into his cute little 'I mean business' pose. "There's a robbery, about two blocks that way." He turned his head to look at Wade, and stared at him just long enough that Wade paid extra close attention to his next weighted words. "No. Killing. Think you can handle that?" He sounded serious, but not unkind.

[See? I knew it. Trying to save us.]

{Trying to save _them_ maybe…}

Wade's hands curled into determined fists at his sides, and he nodded. "I'm all over that, Baby Boy. For you, no un-aliving."

Spider-Man paused, and he was looking at Wade like there was something he wanted to say, but the silence stretched on for several seconds.

{…But just for tonight, right? I mean, it's not like we're _never_ gonna un-alive people again.}

Wade cleared his throat, breaking whatever spell had been holding Spidey's attention. As the young hero looked away, Wade turned his head to mutter, "Of course, idiot. We have shit to do, you know."

"Come on." Spidey said, almost too softly for Wade to hear. Then he stepped to the edge of the roof, and held out his hand to Deadpool. Wade looked down at it as if Spider-Man was offering him a quick lift to Mars.

"Um… How exactly is this supposed to work? I weigh more than your average child, you know." Even as he spoke, he remembered the amazing ease with which the little spider had pulled him up onto the roof earlier.

Spidey sighed, and Wade could just picture the eye roll. "I'm just gonna give you a lift to the ground, Pool. No need to get frisky."

Wade grinned. "But frisky is my middle name." He stepped forward, suppressing a shiver as he placed his hand in Spidey's smaller, almost delicate palm.

"Then I guess you'll just have to suppress your natural instincts for a little while."

[That's certainly true…]

{We can do it for yoooouuuuu Spidey-Babe!}

Spider-Man shot a web. Wade watched it attach to the building across the street, and he was unprepared when Spidey stepped off the roof with no warning, yanking Wade with him.

They fell, still clutching hands, and the rush of cool night air through Wade's mask made his skin prickle. Then the web went taut, and their free fall leveled out into a smooth, stomach-dropping curve as Spidey swung them across the road, a few feet about the night traffic, Wade's feet almost brushing the tops of the cars as he dangled from Spider-Man's hand. And then they were slipping into an alley, and Spidey let go, dropping him to the ground before disconnecting his web and landing smoothly beside him.

Wade took a breath.

{Wow.}

"Yeah. Wow. If I could swing around like you, Spidey-Boy, I don't think I'd ever touch down on solid ground again."

Spider-Man offered him a brief, mask-covered grin. "That wasn't even serious swinging, Red." He turned his head sharply to the side, hearing something that caught his attention. When he spoke again, his tone was serious. "Let's go. They're taking off." He didn't wait for Wade to respond before he took off running.

Wade followed without hesitation, checking his katanas and guns as they left the alley, taking a sharp turn left and running down the nearly empty sidewalk.

{Damn, that spider's fast! Look at him go!}

[It would be fun to try to catch him…]

"Not today." Wade growled, his eyes migrating unbidden to Spidey's perfect little ass as he ran, a few feet ahead of Wade.

{Damn, look at dat ass… Think he's running just so we can keep up? I bet if we weren't here he'd be swinging around or leaping across rooftops.}

[We can do that, too. The stupid itsy spider is underestimating us.]

Even Yellow was irked by that. {We can educate him on our particular skillset later…}

Wade huffed out a heavy breath, annoyed by the boxes' sensitivity. Hell, it was probably better that Spidey _did_ underestimate Deadpool. That way it might take him longer to realize what a cutthroat, professional killing machine he really was. They rounded another corner and flew past a convenience store with a broken window, alarms blazing into the already noisy New York night. They ran another block before they caught sight of the robbers, three guys with backpacks (probably full of cash and liquor) trying to dodge into a side street.

Spidey shot a web, catching the closest one in the legs. He fell with a sharp, surprised yelp. Wade reached for one of his side arms as the other two skidded to a stop and turned to face the hero and the mercenary.

{No guns!} Yellow reminded.

"Right." Wade reached for his katanas instead, drawing them as he and Spidey slowed to a stop. He grinned as they began their face-off, thrilled and almost convinced this was just some elaborate hallucination as he stood next to Spider-Man, ready to fight crime.

"Didn't your Mommy ever teach you not to touch things that don't belong to you?" Spidey started in on his signature witty taunts, and Wade felt like he'd died and gone to heaven.

"Didn't yours teach you to mind your own business?" Snapped one of the guys, pulling a knife from his belt.

{Ooh, a smart ass.}

"Clever mouth." Commented Spidey, shooting a web at the aforementioned mouth and immediately sticking it shut. The guy started clawing at the webs, a wild look coming into his eyes when his scraping fingers did nothing.

[You got to cut if off, idiot. You have a fucking knife.]

But Spidey didn't give him time to figure it out. He webbed the knife, and the guy's hands, and his feet, and then there was nothing left to keep him from flopping over onto the ground and wriggling like a caterpillar.

"Fuck yeah!" Wade cheered, raising one katana into the air in a sort of victory salute. Seeing what had happened to his friends, there was real fear in the last man's face, his stance defensive and desperate as he pulled a gun from his belt and pointed it, shaking slightly, at Spider-Man.

[Oh, come on. Who of the two of us is the most dangerous, here?]

{He probably doesn't know who we are.}

[He will…]

Wade's grin faded into a scowl. How come they were always trying to shoot Spider-Man? The kid was a saint. "Not cool." He said, tone cold. And then he was surging forward, katana hissing through the air as he brought it down, quickly and efficiently severing the man's hand at the wrist. Hand and gun fell to the ground, and there was a prolonged moment of silence before the screaming started.

"Fuck. Deadpool!" Wade turned to face Spider-Man, who was looking distraught as he moved forward to strip the shirt off the first guy he downed, balling it up and coming to press it against the gushing stump of a wrist left on guy number three.

"What?" Wade asked, bewildered.

{Why is he mad? We didn't kill him!}

Spidey dug in the screaming guy's pocket for a phone, which he pulled out and used to dial 911. "Hold this here until the ambulance comes, okay?" He ordered, waiting until the shaking, sobbing man had taken over holding the shirt before he stepped away. "Come on." He practically growled at Wade, leading them around the corner and up onto a fire escape.

Wade followed, sheathing his katanas, still confused as hell. When they'd climbed to the third floor, Spidey whirled around to face him. "You can't just go _cutting off people's limbs_ , Deadpool!"

Wade frowned. "But I didn't kill him. And he had a gun! You hate guns."

That seemed to bring Spider-Man up short, and he stared for a moment before replying. "Well, yeah… But… I can deal with guns, okay? No on needs to lose their hands." He paused and looked away for a moment, thinking. "Look, you… You did well."

Wade scoffed. "Um, obviously not…"

[I still don't see what the problem is.]

{Me neither.}

Spidey shook his head. "No, you did. I just wasn't clear enough. I try to stop criminals with as little force as possible, so no one gets hurt permanently, alright?"

Wade nodded slowly, although he didn't really understand why. "Sure… no permanent injuries."

[So no blows to the head, and no broken necks, spines, or femurs. And no severed limbs.]

Yellow whined. {But that's so booooooring!}

"Exactly." Spider-Man punched Wade's shoulder lightly, and Wade felt the mood lightening. "Want to try again?"

He nodded. "Sure thing, Spidey. Lead the way."

Spider-Man stepped to the edge of the fire escape, brushing against Wade's arm as he did so, and listened again. Wade stayed still, not moving away and hardly daring to breath as he waited for Spidey to hear something.

After a few moments, the young hero went tense. "Come on." Was all he said, launching himself over the railing and landing in a crouch on the ground below. Wade followed the same way, rolling when he landed so he wouldn't sprain anything. Spidey was already running, so Wade followed. He pushed himself to catch up to the little spider, but even though he was several inches taller, he couldn't close the distance.

[Guess we'll have to get creative when we plan to catch him.]

They ran for a good three or four blocks this time, far enough and fast enough that Wade's breath was coming a bit heavier when they finally skidded to a stop at the corner of an abandoned lot. The only car in sight was a large black Chevy Tahoe, into which a pair of men were lifting an unconscious woman. A few feet away, another man was struggling with a little girl, no more than eight years old, who was screaming and crying and kicking up a storm.

Wade's stomach dropped, and his vision went red.

{Kill them.}

Wade stepped forward, hands landing on the handles of his favorite pistols, but he faltered, remembering who was standing beside him.

[Doesn't matter. _Kill them_.]

And then Spidey was rushing past him, a blur of red and blue, and he attacked the men tucking the woman into the back seat with a swiftness and skill that screamed justice.

Wade snapped his jaw tight and turned his attention to the asshole manhandling the little girl. His hands twitched towards his katanas, but he held himself back. If he drew blades, this prick was not going to survive the night.

So he used his hands. He was on the guy before he knew what was happening, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him to the ground. He planted one heavy knee on the man's stomach and pressed, smothering the elicited strangled gasp with a quick punch to the face.

{More.}

[Beat him to death.]

{He deserves it.}

Wade gritted his teeth, punching him again. And again.

But then he stopped.

{Come on!} Yellow hissed his displeasure as Wade pushed off the near-unconscious criminal and turned to the girl, who was sitting on the ground, legs pulled into her chest and face buried in her knees.

Wade knelt beside her, his chest aching with a fierce and sudden empathy. "It's okay." He murmured, placing one gentle hand on her back. "You're okay now." She raised her face, red and tear stained, and Wade swallowed. "You're safe now. Spider-Man came to save you."

"Y-You're Spider-Man?" She asked, voice weak and shaky with tears.

Wade let out a weak breath of a laugh. "No, sweetie. He is." He turned his head to nod at Spidey, who was lifting the woman from the car, cradling her in his arms as if she weighed nothing. The other men, three of them now, were webbed up on the ground at his feet. They were all sporting some vicious bruises on their faces.

"Thank you." The girl's voice was no more than a whisper, and Wade looked down at her in shock as she clutched at his arm, burying her face in his chest.

"Oh."

{This is new.}

"Um… No problem, honey." He glanced up at Spider-Man, who had reached them and was bending to lay the woman next to the girl.

"Is this your Mommy?" He asked her, voice soft and soothing. The girl nodded mutely, not letting go of Wade. "She's gonna be okay, don't worry." Spidey pulled out a phone he must have taken off one of the men. "I'm gonna call the police and they'll come take care of you and your mom, okay?"

He dialed, said a few quiet words into the receiver, and lay the phone down on the ground beside them. "We're gonna go now, but we won't be far, okay? We'll make sure the police get here alright." Spidey stood up, and Wade started to follow, but the little girl's hands suddenly tightened on his sleeve.

"Don't leave me!" She whimpered, and Wade thought his heart might drop right out of his chest.

"Don't worry, honey, I won't. I'll stay right here until they come, okay?" He raised his arm and let her squirm into his side, glancing up at Spidey. "You go. I'll be fine. I'll, uh… See you tomorrow night, yeah?"

Spider-Man was staring at him, shock evident in every line of his body.

Wade frowned slightly, glancing downwards. "I won't do anything… I'll just sit with her until the police come and then I'll slip away, all quiet like."

Spidey cleared his throat. "No, um... That's fine. That's really good of you." Wade's eyes snapped back up to Spidey's mask, surprised.

{He thinks we're good?}

[This _is_ pretty sickly sweet…]

Spidey nodded slightly, taking a step backwards. "Yeah. You did good, Red. I'll, um… I'll see you tomorrow." He knew, as well as Wade did, that the police wouldn't let Wade go without watching him like a hawk, so it wouldn't be safe for him to meet up with Spider-Man again tonight.

Wade just watched, shocked into silence, as Spidey turned and shot a web, swinging away into the night like a graceful acrobat.

{We did good.} Yellow sounded awed.

[God… it's disgusting.]

Wade swallowed, looking down at the girl who was hiding her face in his ribs, her little arms now wrapped around his broad torso as far as they could reach.

"No… It's nice."

He waited until he heard police sirens. When he tried to pull away, the girl clung to him like glue, so he kept waiting until the police had surrounded them, sirens blazing. He stayed calm as they pointed their guns at him, stayed calm as he carefully separated from the girl and walked to the perimeter, hands raised above his head.

He stayed calm as he dodged the grabby cops and took off running into the night, unwilling to spend hours sawing his hands off at the wrists if they cuffed him behind his back. He ended up at his place near Times Square, still a bit dazed from the events of the evening.

{Tonight was fucking _awesome_.}

"I'll hop on that choo choo train." Wade muttered as he flung himself down on the couch, suddenly exhausted.

[Don't get used to it.] White sounded bitter. [It won't last. We all know it.]

{Oh, shut up. Can't we have one happy night?}

White seethed in silence.

{Oh! I know what would make tonight even better!}

Wade grinned briefly, already thinking the same thing. He might as well test out that number, see if it was a fake. He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick message.

 **heeeeeeey**

[Classy.]

A few minutes passed while Wade stared at the phone, waiting. It was long enough that he'd finally given up with a sigh and was about to tuck his phone back into its pouch when it vibrated in his hand.

 **Who's this?**

 **wade winston wilson who this?**

Another minute, then the phone lit up again.

 **Peter. I gave you my number, remember?**

{It wasn't a fake! He really gave us his number!}

Wade grinned briefly. He quickly typed in a name for the contact, 'Pretty Peter,' before typing a response.

 **u betcha!**  
 **so watcha up to pete?**

… **I'm sleeping?**

Wade turned his wrist to glance at his Hello Kitty watch. It was half past one in the morning.

[Must be a school night.]

 **is that why u took like five min to respond to my first txt? it took u that long to wake up?**

There was another long minute before he got a response.

{Ooh, Pretty Peter is hiding something!}

 **I was falling asleep. Checked my phone one more time.**

Wade snickered.

 **gotcha gotcha… u were "falling asleep"**  
 **don't worry, i won't tell anyone you were playing with ur wand, potter**  
 **i practice my spells all the time 2**

{Oh my god! That's so cute! I bet he has a really nice-}

"Shut up."

 **Oh my god. I wasn't doing that.**

 **sure…**

Another minute passed, and Wade was suddenly worried he had scared the kid off.

[What do you expect, talking to him like that?]

 **Is there a reason you're texting me so late?**

{Ouch. The claws come out.}

Wade frowned.

 **right, srry. did i wake ur aunt?**

 **No, it's fine. I just wondered why you were texting me now**

 **just wanted to say hi**  
 **i'll let you get 2 sleep**  
 **night peter**

 **Goodnight Wade**

{Aaaaaaawwww!}

Wade stared at the last text for a long time, a wide, stupid grin plastered onto his face.

[Oh my god… You're fucking hopeless.]

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song credits:

Title:  
#1 Crush - Garbage  
Lyrics:  
Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	7. Fight the Break of Dawn

**Peter**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Fucking hell…" Peter muttered testily to himself as he stared in the mirror, frustrated by his inability to make his hair do anything except stick up in every direction. He gave himself a final look-over and heaved a sigh. It would have to do. The red cardigan looked kind of stupid, like he was trying too hard, but he didn't really want to show up wearing a t-shirt with some dorky science joke on it. Jeans seemed fine, because he wasn't going for nice, and his ratty tennis shoes were about all he owned, so… Well, it was what it was.

He turned away, dismissing the insecurities from his mind, and made his way from the bathroom to the front door. He checked his pockets. Phone, wallet (which only contained ten dollars) and key. Good to go, then. He stared at his skateboard where it leaned against the wall for a second, considering whether or not he should take it, but ultimately decided against the idea. He didn't want to look like more of a kid than he already did. With one last nervous breath, Peter opened his front door and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, locking up behind himself.

It was Thursday. Thursday night, to be exact, and Peter had finally resolved to step up to the plate and deal with the two very important people he'd been avoiding all week. That's right, Peter had been a complete coward. He could hardly look at MJ, spent his lunches hiding out in empty classrooms, and snuck out of school at the end of the day like a scared little child hiding from his crush.

Maybe that's what he was. Regardless, life at school had been kind of a hellhole. He could only imagine what MJ and Harry must think of him, and it was making him sick. Even Ned knew something was going on and had been bugging Peter nonstop to suck it up and ask MJ out already. Ned wasn't really on the same page as everyone else, as he usually tended not to be, but Peter was fine with it staying that way for now. He'd explain it all to his friend once he finally figured it out for himself.

The week so far had been a strange combination of misery and stupid, giddy excitement. Because for as horrible as things had been going with his friends, he'd been having a blast with Deadpool. Wade Wilson. Stupid Wade Winston Wilson. With his stupid adorable efforts to follow Spider-Man's rules and his stupid dirty texts. And his stupid, inexplicable ability to occupy Peter's mind when he had much more important things to think about. Like work. And school.

Work and school had both been kicking Peter's ass. (His bitable ass, as Deadpool had called it the previous night, oblivious to the deep blush he brought to Spider-Man's mortified face beneath the mask.) On top of a group project and two papers for his hardest classes, Peter had been given a whole new host of responsibilities at Oscorp. It was great, really, because it was kind of like he was being promoted (if unpaid high school interns can be promoted). But the extra work was wreaking havoc on his sleeping patterns. He was lucky if he got most of his homework done these days and he'd gotten yelled at for falling asleep in Spanish the day before. It hadn't been pleasant. So Peter had done what needed to be done and taken a night off from Spider-Man. It wasn't his preferred choice of what to drop from his laundry list of to-do items, but it would have to do. He couldn't exactly quit his job at Oscorp or fail any of his classes, and if he went one more night without sleep he was going to drop dead.

So he should be resting, right? He should be using his one night off from being a crime-fighting, wise-cracking hero to catch up on some much needed sleep, right? Wrong. Peter needed to deal with the big fat Harry problem before his brain exploded, so he was using his free night to work out a solution once and for all.

Peter was confused about Harry. So, Peter did what he did best, and tried to analyze the situation objectively. First, he made a list of all the things he knew to be true. One: he had never thought of Harry, or any guy, in a sexual or romantic way before. Two: he _had_ thought of girls that way. Not many, but a few over the past four years or so. Three: he hadn't felt anything but confused when MJ kissed him. But when Harry kissed him, he'd felt…

And that was where things got complicated. He'd felt so many things, he wasn't sure which was the most important. He'd felt shocked, and nervous, and scared of losing his friend if he rejected him like he had MJ. But he'd also felt, as much as it chagrined him to admit it, excited. And the actual kiss had been… nice. He never would have thought Harry's lips could be so soft, or his touch so gentle when he held Peter in place. Just thinking about it caused Peter to flush all over, which was confusing on top of everything else. He could only guess that it meant that he was, in fact, attracted to Harry Osborn. That hypothesis was only supported by the fact that whenever Peter thought about the possibility of kissing Harry _again_ , he felt nervous and very warm. Kind of like he used to feel when MJ would hold his hand the first half of freshman year, when he'd had a crush on her.

Did that mean he had a crush on Harry?

Maybe. But before he could think about that, Peter needed to figure out if he liked guys. Men. Penises. He'd never given much thought to his sexuality before. Not because he'd been avoiding the subject, but because he'd honestly just been focused on other things for the past few years. First it was getting good grades and getting into the best high school, then Uncle Ben had died, then it had been more school and then it was Spider-Man. And that, um, that pretty much summed up Peter's life since he'd hit puberty. And now… Now there were so many questions that needed answering and he kind of felt like he'd fallen behind in some way. Like this was a test he was supposed to have studied for, but he'd forgotten about it and now the test was tomorrow and he wasn't prepared.

So Peter decided to do what he did second best. Research.

When he got home from working at Oscorp that day he'd planted himself in front of his new laptop. It was the first time he was using it, because he'd been feeling too guilty to even open the box. But this was for a good cause. For Harry, really, so Peter was willing to set up the new computer because he had a feeling he was going to need the extra ram if he wanted to get his research done before the next turn of the century.

He started out simple. Google knew everything, right? So Peter asked it how to know if he was gay. The results weren't all that helpful. He _did_ think about Harry a lot… But not as much as he thought about other things. Like Deadpool. He did enjoy it when Harry touched him, and um, liked thinking about their kiss. But he did _not_ want to be with Harry whenever he wasn't with him. In fact, he'd been avoiding the older boy for three days now. And he didn't have… Well… special dreams, about Harry or anyone else for that matter.

So he needed to try a different approach. Maybe if thinking about kissing guys other than his best friend (because wires could get crossed and feelings are confusing) was pleasant for Peter, that might clear up whether or not he just felt this way because it's _Harry_ specifically. So he typed in "guy on guy kissing" and clicked over to videos.

And oh, was _that_ a bad idea. The videos Google was showing him were less the sweet, innocent high school kisses that Peter had been imagining, and more of the full frontal nudity variety. And they were definitely doing more than kissing. Peter clicked away from that page very quickly. Well… at least after no more than a minute or two, when he was sure that those images were permanently seared onto the surface of his brain.

Peter needed something else. Something that would actually tell him whether he liked guys in general, or just had feelings for Harry because of their friendship. He needed a real-world experience. So he gritted his teeth and did a little more internet searching. He quickly discarded the idea of hook-up apps, because he didn't really want to end up being hacked to pieces in an abandoned shed on the edge of Queens. He needed to go somewhere he could flirt with someone without the expectation of taking it too far. And he needed to go somewhere the people might actually respond positively to his attempts (however awkward they might be) so that he could tell if he _wanted_ someone else to be interested in him.

He needed to go to a gay bar.

So that's how Peter ended up walking through Queens at 9:30pm, nervous as hell but determined not to pussy out of this one. He'd picked the nearest gay bar on Google Maps, wanting to be able to walk home quickly when he decided he wanted to leave. Aunt May was working a late shift and wouldn't be home until almost midnight, so Peter had at least two hours to figure this stuff out. Hopefully that was enough time. He didn't really know how these things worked.

It was only a fifteen-minute walk, and the night air was brisk although the day had been warm and sunny. Peter was glad he'd worn his cardigan, even if it looked stupid. When he finally arrived at his destination, he stood across the street and stared, hands shoved into his pockets.

This couldn't be the right place. He looked left, and right, and turned around to look behind him. Nope… This was the only bar in sight. He squinted at the dingy neon sign even though his vision was better than perfect. Yeah… That definitely said "The Back End" even though a couple of the letters were flickering ominously. The whole front of the building reeked of derelict and disrepair. Peter could only hope that the inside was in better condition.

For a moment, he considered turning around and going home. But then he remembered that he'd been a coward for days now and it was about time he pulled himself up by his bootstraps and took it like a man. Or… Whatever overused platitude was appropriate for this situation.

So he took a deep breath and forced himself to cross the street. "Here goes nothing." He muttered to himself as he raised a hand to pull open the door. He hesitated for just a moment, unable to shake a slightly ominous feeling from the back of his skull. But his spidey sense wasn't going off, so he grasped the slightly grimy door handle and pulled, mentally bracing himself for whatever he might find on the other side.

It was… Not what he'd been expecting, that's for sure. The lighting was dim, but not too dark. Instead of loud music and lewdly dancing men dressed provocatively, Peter was met with the sight of several middle-aged guys standing around a pool table and sitting at a very normal mahogany bar. The sound of classic rock played in the background and the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer washed over Peter as he stepped inside, almost overwhelming his heightened senses. As soon as the door swung shut behind him with a loud click, every face in the room turned towards him, and ten or so sets of eyes skimmed over his face and body, clearly taking stock of the new arrival.

Once again, Peter had the urge to turn around and go back home without a second glance. But once again, he told himself he was being a pussy and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, swallowing and focusing his eyes on an empty stool at the bar until he'd moved through the room and finally reached it. He hoisted himself up and cleared his throat as he clasped his hands on the counter, listening carefully as the men went back to their game and conversations. He took a deep breath, relaxing only slightly as he raised his eyes to the menu behind the bar, his stomach still a mess of knots.

A man stepped into his line of vision, perhaps in his mid thirties or early forties, guarded brown eyes under a fringe of uncut bangs. "Can I get you something, kid?" Peter blinked at the bartender, unprepared to place an order of any sort. But, he realized belatedly, it would probably be rude to sit at a bar and not buy anything.

"Um…" He glanced back at the menu, but there was nothing listed that didn't contain alcohol. "Do you have coke?" The man nodded, but the look on his face clearly said that he was confused as fuck about why Peter was here. "Okay. I'll just, um, have that. A coke. Please."

"You got it." The bartender muttered, turning around to dig something out of a small fridge. Peter reached into his pocket for his wallet, but before he could pull it out, a large body slid into the empty seat beside him.

"Let me get that." Said the newcomer, tossing a five-dollar bill on the counter as he grinned down at Peter.

Peter looked up, resisting the urge to lean away as he took in the lined face of a man that must have been at least fifty, watery blue eyes skimming over Peter's face with an almost hungry look.

"Oh, um… No, that's okay. I was going to-"

"Nonsense." The man cut Peter off, clearly not taking his hesitant and unsure tone as authoritative in any way. "Let me buy you a drink."

"Um…" Shit. Peter had clearly misinterpreted this situation. He should have left as soon as he saw what kind of place this was. He'd been so focused on pushing through this to the other side that he hadn't been thinking clearly. And now he was stuck here… Getting hit on by old men, apparently.

The man in question didn't seem at all deterred by Peter's hesitation. He took the liberty of accepting the coke can from the bartender and offering it to Peter, who took it only because he couldn't think of anything else to do. "So… What's a pretty young thing like you doing in a place like this?"

Peter would have been relieved that it was clear he didn't belong here if he wasn't getting the distinct impression that this was a pick-up line of some sort. "Nothing. Actually, I just-"

He didn't get to finish. Another man slid into the open space on the other side of Peter, crowding so close that Peter could feel the heat through his plaid shirt and smell the alcohol on his breath. Something sharp. Like the whiskey Uncle Ben used to drink. "Stop harassing him, Clint. Can't you tell he isn't here for the likes of you?"

Peter stiffened at the harsh Brooklyn accent at his shoulder, catching the darkening expression on 'Clint's' face before turning to look at his new admirer. This man was younger, at least, but still not what Peter had been looking for. Not by a long shot. His closely trimmed dark beard and shaggy dark hair reeked of cigarette smoke and his muddy eyes looked sharp and dangerous. He stood at least a few inches taller than Peter and was undeniably more filled out. Peter swallowed, mentally panicking even as he tried to think of the most polite way to slip out and leave.

"Aw, come on, Darryl… I fucking got here first." Clint sounded ticked off, but also unmistakably resigned. It was the resignation that sent a sharp tingle of warning down the back of Peter's neck. And that was his cue to get the fuck out of here.

"Um, actually I was just gonna…" He trailed off, his throat going tight as 'Darryl' slung one heavy arm around his shoulder.

"Forget it, babe. Don't let this old geezer scare you away." Peter watched with a rapidly drying mouth as Clint pushed away from the bar with a huff and lumbered off towards the pool table, leaving Darryl and Peter alone. He looked up, trying to catch the bartender's eye, but the man was studiously ignoring the entire interaction as he polished something behind the bar, his back to them. Darryl's arm tightened around his shoulders, and Peter held back a squeak of discomfort. "My, my… You're a shy one, aren't you?"

Peter shook his head mutely, eyes lowering to the surface of the bar as he waited for his moment to disentangle himself and get. The hell. Out. Darryl only chuckled. "Aw… You're such a pretty little twink."

That was the last straw. Peter cleared his throat and carefully, but firmly, ducked out from under the man's arm, sliding off the stool as he did so. "I was just leaving." He managed to sound calm, although his heart was racing as he turned towards the door, leaving his drink forgotten behind him.

He got a few steps before Darryl was falling into step beside him, calloused hand coming up to grasp the back of Peter's neck even as he flinched away. "Come on, babe… Don't be like that. We're just getting to know each other."

Peter jerked away from the man's touch and kept his focus on the door. He was half way across the room already. "No, I have to leave." He muttered. He was almost there, just a few feet away, when Darryl slid in front of him, blocking his path. Peter frowned as he came to a sudden stop. He didn't really want to fight his way out, but if he had to…

"Look at this boys." Peter blinked in surprise as his new stalker called the attention of the other men in the room. "Our new guest is leaving already." Peter shifted uncomfortably, glancing around at the other men whose focus was now directed at him, the dull background noise of conversation having ceased entirely. There were about eleven. Twelve, if you counted the bartender. Bad odds but Peter could take them if he had to. "Do we want him to leave?"

The other men shook their heads and muttered various "nopes" and "nu-uhs." Darryl took a step towards Peter, the look in his eyes undeniably predatory, and Peter took an involuntary step backwards. The base of his neck was tingling insistently, uncomfortably.

"Ever heard of hotel California, kid?" Peter's jaw tightened, but he nodded. Better to play along. Maybe he could slip out without too much hassle if he waited for the right moment. Darryl grinned. "Good. We hope you enjoy your stay."

A few people chuckled quietly.

"You gonna share, Darryl?" Someone called, a gruff looking man leaning against the pool table holding the stick casually by his side. He looked like he knew how to handle it.

Darryl smirked, approaching Peter slowly until he could sling his arm around the teenager's neck. Peter didn't stop him. For now. "Maybe. If you're very, very nice." This earned him a few more chuckles. Peter went still, preparing to make a break for it. He'd try to run first, but if they stopped him again he'd fight. He would certainly have the element of surprise, so he had no doubts that he could get out alright.

But just as Peter was about to break away from Darryl's hold and bolt for the door, his eyes flickered up to the corner of the room, where a camera was mounted, humming quietly.

Fuck.

Peter's gaze skimmed the edges of the room and counted two more cameras, all working. He could hear them. His stomach sank and real fear settled into his skin for the first time that night. Cameras meant no super strength. No super speed. No fighting off twelve men all on his own to make a daring escape.

Darryl began to lead him back to the bar, and Peter let him. His mind was racing, but he couldn't think of a way out of this when his heartbeat was pounding so loud in his ears. He hardly heard the bartender remind him that he hadn't opened his coke as Darryl steered him back to the seat he'd just vacated.

Peter stopped before he could be pulled onto the stool, digging his feet in against Darryl's guidance. That earned him a sharp look from the man, but he managed to arrange his face into an only slightly nervous smile. "I, um… I gotta use the restroom. I'll just be a minute." He ducked out from under the plaid-sleeved arm and took a tentative step towards the doorway next to the bar marked 'bathroom' by a sign that hung overhead. He waited for permission, insides churning.

Darryl just chuckled, but there was a warning glint in his eyes. "Sure, twink. But there aint no window in there, so don't take too long."

Peter nodded before turning and walking to the bathroom as quickly as he could without looking too urgent. He pulled open the door, slipped inside, and turned the lock behind him before breathing a long, shaky breath. It was a single restroom, thank god. It was grimy and had a distinctly unpleasant smell, but to Peter it was fucking comfortable compared to the larger room on the other side of the door.

He pulled out his phone, breathing another sigh of relief when he saw that he had a signal. Now he just had to decide who the fuck to call. He sure as hell couldn't tell May where he was. Calling the police was out of the question. He tried to avoid contact with the cops as much as possible, given his nighttime activities. He couldn't afford to be anywhere on their radar. Calling Harry was a possibility… But god, he'd be so embarrassed. His friend would undoubtedly show up with a couple of intimidating body guards and frisk Peter off in an expensive black town car. Not that Peter cared what these assholes at the bar thought. But for Harry to see him here… To have to _save_ him from this. He'd die of shame. He'd never fucking live it down.

That kind of only left one person… And to be honest, it was probably the best person to call in this kind of situation, no matter how embarrassing it was for Peter. With a deep, resigned sigh, he pulled up Wade's text messages and typed out a new one.

 **Hey, are you free?**

He waited for a reply, practically holding his breath as he made an exerted effort not to snap the phone between his fingers. He really needed Wade to be free. Like right now. If he was out as Deadpool, completing a job, it could take hours before he responded… The seconds ticked by at an agonizing pace and Peter could feel the panic starting to rise in his chest.

He tamped it down when his phone finally vibrated, less than a minute after he sent his text.

 **well, im alone in my room w fluffy the unicorn, some lube, and my spiderman calendar**  
 **what do u think?**

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes even as his cheeks grew warm. This was so not the time for Wade's dirty jokes. Thankfully, another text quickly followed before Peter could even type a reply.

 **jk im free as a bird**  
 **whatcha need**

Peter breathed out and told himself to relax. Wade would come if he asked.

 **I need your help. Can you come get me at the bar on 54th and Monroe blvd?**

He didn't even have time to start feeling nervous before Wade's reply buzzed in his hand.

 **b right there**

Peter took a deep breath and slipped his phone back into his pocket, feeling almost shaky with relief. It was kind of strange how he felt instantly better. Like the situation was already solved just because Wade was on his way. Peter knew it probably wouldn't be that easy, but he was glad that he no longer felt coiled tight as a spring with anxiety and fear.

He wished he could linger in the bathroom for as long as possible, but he suspected that if he stayed locked away much longer Darryl or some of his friends would take the liberty of breaking down the door for him. So he ran a hand through his hair and took one more breath of piss-scented air, then let himself out into asshole-land once again. (Pun not intended.)

He dragged his feet a bit, but made his way back to the bar stool without complaint, trying not to look anyone in the eye. He slipped onto the seat and reached for his coke. It was still unopened so he flipped the tab, listening to it pop and hiss before bringing it to his mouth for a sip, just to kill time. He could do this. He could pretend he didn't mind being here and stall long enough for Wade to arrive. He didn't want to think of what might be attempted if he _couldn't_ stall them.

He didn't want to think of what he would or wouldn't do to stop them. Which was more important? His secret identity or his… safety? Hopefully he wouldn't have to choose.

"You ignoring me now, pipsqueak?"

Peter shook his head and forced a smile as he set down his drink, glancing sideways to look at Darryl. He was leaning against the bar beside Peter, holding a glass of dark amber liquid in his left hand. Peter could smell it from where he sat, a sharp and burning scent with an almost woodsy current underneath. He resisted the urge to scrunch up his nose.

"Do… Do you, um, come here often?" Peter thought that maybe making conversation would be a good way to kill time. Probably better than any of his other options. He just needed to get this guy talking.

But Darryl just threw back his head and laughed. "You tryin' to pick me up, boy?" He glanced over to the pool table. "Hear that, guys? The twink's tryin' to pick me up." They all seemed to think it was rather funny. Peter worked to keep his expression from turning stormy. He had his frustration mostly wiped off his face by the time Darryl turned back to him. "You come here lookin' for a nice bear like me, huh?" He sidled closer to his unwilling 'twink' and Peter leaned back instinctually.

He could tell Darryl didn't like that, so he tried to think of something else he could say that would serve as an adequate distraction. "Y-yeah… I mean… Well, sure. You, um…" Peter was grasping at straws here. "You're very… strong. W-what do you do for a living?" Well, it was better than nothing.

The bearded man paused, an almost suspicious look passing through his eyes before he seemed to decide that he might as well answer. "I work security for Yankee Stadium." He seemed quite proud of that fact. "Me 'n' Bob do. Aint that right, Bob!" He raised his glass to a man across the room. This one was shorter but wider, the muscles clearly straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt.

"Hell yeah!" Bob replied, raising his beer bottle in agreement. God. You could fucking cut the testosterone with a knife.

"Oh, cool." Peter faked another smile, and wondered if it was at all convincing. "What's that like?"

Apparently he was convincing enough, because he got Darryl to prattle on about all the 'freaks and weirdos' he encountered at the stadium for a good few minutes. Bob even came over to tell about the time the FBI busted a drug ring at the stadium during a game. To hear him tell it, the security guys were elemental in bringing those drug dealers down. Somehow, Peter doubted that was true.

But he listened and he nodded along and he pretended to be interested.

And when Darryl wrapped his arm around Peter's neck again, pulling him uncomfortably against his side, Peter tried not to show how disgusted he felt. But no matter how hard he tried to control his expression, he couldn't stop from stiffening slightly as the back of his neck tingled sharply with warning. Darryl noticed.

"Relax, babe." He crooned, setting his near-empty drink down on the bar and reaching over to rub Peter's shoulder with one hand. "Hey, I know what'll loosen you up… How 'bout we take a look at Christian's back room, eh?"

Peter swallowed hard, leaning away from the man's unwanted touch, his skin beginning to crawl. "Oh, um… Actually, I'm uh, waiting for someone."

"Oh, are you now?" The disbelief in Darryl's voice was more than clear.

Peter nodded. "Yeah. My, um… I'm meeting him here. He should be here soon." God, Peter hoped he would be here soon. That feeling of rising panic, like something bad was about to happen, was building in his chest.

Darryl just laughed and shook Peter back and forth with the arm still wrapped around his neck. "Look at that… The kid's tryin' to make me jealous." Bob laughed too, clearly the lackey in their special little relationship.

Darryl leaned down so his breath ghosted hot and moist over Peter's ear. "Maybe it's working." Peter cringed away, stomach churning. "But you won't be thinkin' of nobody else when I have you bent over in the back room. Oh, babe just you wait until I…"

Peter heard something, and his heart leapt in his chest. A car. A car door slamming. It had to be Wade. It _had_ to. He jerked away from Darryl and stood up, eyes trained on the door.

Darryl grunted in displeasure. "Where d'you think you're runnin' off to?" He stepped in front of Peter and crowded him back against the bar, hands coming to land on his hips. Peter gasped, squirming slightly as the hard edge of the counter dug into his back even as Darryl's hungry fingers dug into his hips.

"Get off." He ordered, willing his voice to come out stronger than it felt. He could push him away. He could. But he was frozen there, petrified of revealing himself on camera.

"Play nice, twink." Darryl growled, leaning down to attach his mouth to Peter's neck.

Peter tried to squirm away, but the man's hold on him was too firm. He could feel the panic rising up, closing off his throat.

Suddenly, the door burst open and hit the opposite wall with a loud bang.

Darryl went still, turned his head to see who was daring to interrupt them. And there stood Wade, already a few steps into the room as the door swung shut behind him. He loomed solid and dangerous, fists clenching at his sides as his sharp blue eyes found Peter's. He was wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt, the hood drawn up over his head. But no gloves. And no mask.

He looked absolutely furious.

"Peter." His spoken name was something between a greeting and a summons, a low rumble, a warning that called out to Peter. He felt his whole body straining towards the mercenary.

"Wade." The word tore from his throat with urgency and relief, and Peter couldn't even bring himself to care that it probably sounded more like a desperate plea than the nonchalant greeting he wished he could produce.

He jerked out of Darryl's hold, which had turned stiff and weakened at the sight of the newcomer. He only got two steps, though, before a hand shot out to latch onto his wrist, holding him back. "Not so fast, twink."

Peter didn't even turn to look at his captor. His eyes stayed on Wade, watching as the mercenary's expression darkened, turned even more dangerous than before.

"This is your only warning, Paul Bunyan." Wade's voice was a growl, aggressive enough to send small shocks of tingling warning down Peter's spine. "Let. The boy. Go."

Darryl's grip turned bruising on Peter's wrist, but he ignored it. He didn't even flinch. Didn't take his eyes from Wade's face, full of such beautiful, ruinous anger.

"This is who you're meeting, kid? This is your backdoor bandit?" Darryl snorted. "No wonder you came looking for me. This fucker's uglier than Freddie Krueger."

Peter could see the rage deadening Wade's eyes, but he didn't wait for him to snap. Peter snapped first. He spun around, his free hand coming up to slap Darryl viciously across the cheek.

"You shut your fucking mouth." He spat, the anger that he hadn't felt all evening rising up and overtaking him with a suddenness like an ocean wave knocking him down.

There was silence. Darryl stared at him for a moment, shock evident in his slack jaw and widened eyes. Then that shock turned into anger. "You're gonna regret that, you little fucking-"

He didn't get to finish. Wade moved fast, a blur to everyone but Peter, who was only able to catch his movements because of his heightened eyesight. The mercenary lunged forward, his fist coming up before Darryl could even register that he was being rushed. And then that fist connected with Darryl's face, knocking his entire head backwards into the open air. The man crumpled, hard and fast, and hit the floor with a dull thud. He didn't move after that.

There was stunned silence in the bar, everyone's gaze focused on Darryl's unconscious body, lying awkwardly next to the bar stools where he fell.

Peter stepped into Wade's side, his heart pounding, and he didn't question it when Wade wrapped his arm around his shoulders and his warmth and his smell, gun powder and oil and peppermint candy, felt like safety.

"Anyone else gonna have a problem?" Wade glared around the room. No one spoke. Bob took a step backwards.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief as Wade led him to the door and out into the night, the cold, fresh air tasting like heaven after all that smoke and alcohol. Peter shivered in spite of himself, and Wade's arm tightened slightly around his shoulders before dropping away to open the car door for him.

Peter slipped in gladly, buckling his seat belt on autopilot as Wade walked around the car and got into the drivers seat. He started the car and pulled away from the bar in silence.

"Thank you." Peter breathed, feeling nothing but relief now that they were out of that place.

"What the hell were you doing?" Peter blinked up at Wade, shocked by the fury in his tone. He noticed with considerable surprise that Wade's hands were shaking where they clenched around the steering wheel.

"What?"

"What the _fuck_ were you doing in a place like that? Did you want to get raped?" His tone was tight and vicious, and Peter flinched.

"N-No, I…" Wait. What could he even tell Wade? If he explained about trying to figure out his sexuality, Wade would no doubt start connecting the dots with what Spider-Man had told him a couple of nights ago. Shit. "Um… I just… I was trying to…"

Wade's jaw was clenched so tight that his next words sounded muffled. "Were you trying to hook up with someone? Because kid. That is _not_ the right fucking place for that."

Peter cleared his throat and stared out of the front windshield. "Um… Y-Yeah. That's what I was trying to do. But I _obviously_ didn't know what kind of bar that was."

Wade breathed out through his nose. "A gay bar."

Peter shook his head, his cheeks heating up slightly in the darkness of the car. "No, I knew that part… It just, clearly, wasn't the right kind of gay bar… I guess. I don't know." It was embarrassing to realize how little Peter knew about this stuff. And even more embarrassing for it to become clear how poorly he'd planned this evening. He'd been so preoccupied with solving his problems _tonight_ that he hadn't even done any background research on where he was going. It was incredibly stupid of him.

Wade had gone silent, and when Peter glanced at him he couldn't tell what was going on in the mercenary's head. Then again, when could he ever? He looked away out of courtesy when Wade started mumbling to himself.

"No, of course he's not gonna… Fuck no, Yellow. Just shut the fuck up." A moment passed, and Wade cleared his throat. "You need to be more careful, Peter. Guys will do terrible shit for a sweet little thing like you."

Peter flushed dark red, ducking his head to try and hide his embarrassment. Did Wade mean that _he_ thought Peter was a sweet little thing? Or that disgusting assholes like Darryl did? It shouldn't even matter. His point was clear. "Y-Yeah…" Peter shifted slightly in his seat. "I will be. Sorry."

A few heartbeats passed in silence. "Where am I going, kid?" Peter raised his head to look out the window, staring around until they passed a street sign. They were about twenty blocks from Peter's building. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what address he should take them to, but then he realized that ship had sailed. Wade knew his name. Knew his Aunt. There was no doubt that he could find out where Peter lived if he wanted to. For some reason, that thought didn't scare Peter as much as it probably should.

"Turn right at the next light." He instructed. Wade nodded silently.

Peter relaxed back into his seat, suddenly exhausted. God, how could he have been so stupid? He should have done his research. He should have turned around and gone home as soon as he saw the place. Was he losing it? Had his intelligence dropped down to normal level or was he just overworked? Peter heaved a heavy sigh and took off his glasses, setting them in his lap so he could run both his hands over his face and through his hair.

"You okay?"

Peter glanced sideways at Wade, staring for just a second too long before he remembered to slip his glasses back on. "Um, yeah. I guess. I'm just… Really tired." To Peter's intense embarrassment, his voice went tight and shaky on his last words, and he could feel the frustration and exhaustion and helplessness conspiring to make his throat tighten.

Wade hummed in gentle sympathy. "You should get some sleep, then." Peter let out a short, hollow laugh, and Wade smiled. Peter stared, because he liked that smile. Wade didn't like being stared at, though, and as soon as Peter sensed his discomfort, he looked away again. "What's been keeping you up? Too busy being a nerd?"

Peter nodded, because… Well, yeah, and he couldn't exactly mention his nighttime activities. "Pretty much." He admitted, staring out the window. "Turn left at the next street."

Wade nodded. "So what. Building a paper mache volcano? Potato clock? Blowing shit up with your chemistry kit?"

Peter laughed. "No… Not quite." He tipped his head back to let it sit against the headrest. "I have some papers. A project on the rise and fall of the Byzantine Empire. And they're giving me more serious stuff to do at my internship."

Wade raised his eyebrows and nodded as if he were impressed. "Like what kind of stuff?" He asked, as if he were actually curious.

Peter shrugged, feeling kind of embarrassed. "Um… Like more data analysis, mostly. They've given me access to the more classified projects because I kind of helped make a breakthrough with some of their numbers last week. Apparently they were stuck and couldn't do any more experiments until they figured out the stuff that I… Um, figured out." It sounded so vague when he put that way. And it was vague, even to Peter, because they still wouldn't tell him exactly what they were doing.

Wade let out a low whistle. "Shit. That sounds intense, Petey."

Peter bit down on his bottom lip, caught by surprise when Wade called him by the nickname Harry so preferred to use. It didn't feel the same when Wade said it. But it didn't feel… Bad. "Yeah, I guess. Um, left again on Carleton."

Wade hummed his acknowledgement and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, clearly drumming along to some unheard music. Peter's eyes trailed from the steering wheel over to the dashboard. It was a nice car, all black leather and glowing blue lights. Apparently working as an assassin paid well. Peter wasn't the least bit surprised.

"I like your car." He said, mostly to fill the silence.

"Oh. Thanks. But uh, it's not exactly mine."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Whose is it?"

Wade smiled sheepishly. "Uh… My neighbor's, I assume."

Peter's eyes went wide. "You _stole_ a car?"

Wade raised one hand as if to wave him off. "Don't worry about it. I'll put it back right where I found it."

Peter shook his head in disbelief. But really, he shouldn't have been surprised. This was totally something Deadpool would do. Somehow, Peter couldn't bring himself to feel as disapproving as he should. Wade had stolen it to come rescue him, after all.

They rode in comfortable silence for a minute, until Peter noticed that they were on his block.

"It's the building on the corner. On the right." Peter instructed quietly. Wade pulled up to the curb a few moments later, and both he and Peter stared up the old apartment building. It didn't look too bad from this angle. Some of the bricks were crumbling, but at least this side didn't have much graffiti on it.

Peter glanced sideways at Wade as he took his seatbelt off. He was looking down, face hidden by the edge of his hood as he turned the car off and reached for the door handle to let himself out. Peter followed, coming to stand on the sidewalk outside the front doors to the building. Wade came to a stop a couple feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets, unusually quiet.

Peter licked his lips. "Do you, um… Want to come in?"

Wade looked at him for a moment before smiling slightly and shaking his head. "Naw… I don't think that'd be the best idea, Pete."

Peter scuffed the tip of one shoe against the pavement. "My aunt's not home yet." He offered, then immediately blushed. Why would that matter, anyway?

Wade stared at him, gaze probing, before looking down at the ground and growling under his breath. "No. I fucking know. Shut it." Peter looked down too, embarrassed that he'd even asked, and he heard Wade sigh. "Sorry, kid. I should be getting home. And you should get some sleep."

Peter nodded, a bit dejectedly, before looking back up at Wade. "Thanks. For saving me back there."

Wade looked shocked. "I didn't… No problem. I mean of course. You can call me whenever you need anything. Okay? Really."

Peter nodded, and before he really knew what he was doing he had stepped forward and raised his arms to wrap around Wade's waist, his cheek coming to rest on Wade's broad chest. "Okay." He breathed.

Wade went stiff under Peter's hug, but after a few seconds he thawed out and carefully, almost delicately wrapped his arms around Peter's back in return, enveloping him. Peter sighed, relaxing into the intense warmth the radiated through Wade's sweatshirt, letting the mercenary's scent overwhelm his senses.

Suddenly, Peter had the distinct urge to tip his head back and press his lips to the underside of Wade's chin where it rested on the top his head. As soon as he had the thought, heat shot through Peter's stomach and he jerked back in surprise.

Wade's arms fell away from him almost instantly, and Peter felt a little guilty. He smoothed his hands down Wade's chest before pulling away completely, trying to ease the transition.

He looked up, meeting guarded, confused eyes under the shadow of Wade's hood. His chest ached slightly, because this Wade was so different from Deadpool. The insecurity, the hesitation. But Peter was different without his mask on, too. He understood, even if it made him a little sad. He offered the mercenary a small smile. "Thanks. For everything. I'll just… I'll see you around. Or text you. Or something." He shrugged, trying not to feel awkward.

Wade nodded slowly, offering Peter a tentative smile in return. "Alright, Peter. You do that."

Peter's smile widened into a grin as he turned and walked towards the door, pulling his key to the building from his pocket. He turned around one more time before letting himself in, offering Wade a small wave. Then he went inside. He couldn't help but notice that Wade didn't move from his spot on the sidewalk until the door had closed and locked behind Peter with a solid clank. He was waiting to make sure the teenager was locked safely away inside.

As Peter climbed the stairs to his floor, his thought about Wade. How he'd come without question when Peter asked for him. How upset he'd been to see a kid he hardly knew in danger like that. How his arms had felt wrapped around Peter, how gentle he'd been. And how Peter had felt that urge… That _desire_ to press his lips against Wade's scarred skin.

Peter shivered slightly as he thought about it, turning the key in his apartment door.

He realized something as he closed and locked the door behind him, collapsing onto the couch without bothering to take his shoes off. Even if it hadn't happened how he'd planned it to, Peter had gotten his question answered tonight.

He _could_ feel attracted to a guy other than Harry.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter yawned as he walked through the crowded hallways, mentally blocking out the grating sounds of hundreds of students yelling and laughing and slamming lockers. He'd meant to get a full night of sleep last night, he really had, but his mind had been too busy. He'd still gotten more than he usually did (a solid six hours), so at least he wouldn't feel like death warmed over by the afternoon.

If Peter had learned anything from the catastrophe that was last night, it was not to be a coward and deal with his problems without any more procrastination.

Okay, if he learned anything from last night it was not to rush into situations without being prepared like a fucking idiot. But that wasn't the point right now. He was going to talk to MJ, and he was going to do it this morning. No more avoiding her. He knew what he wanted to say, and he'd being lying awake in bed last night planning it all out. He was going to keep it simple, and hope for the best.

But of course, because he was Peter Parker, he'd slept through his alarm this morning and missed his usual train. So he wouldn't be able to talk to her before class. But he wasn't avoiding her! He wasn't!

He slipped into his classroom right before the final bell, cringing lightly as it rang, the sound shrill and harsh to his sensitive ears. He slid into his seat beside MJ, who was drawing in her notebook and studiously ignoring him as she had for the past three mornings.

He leaned over towards her as he got his notebook out of his bag, lowering his voice because the teacher had started speaking. "Hey. Can we talk after class?"

MJ's hand stilled over her paper and she turned to look at him, clearly startled. After a moment of hesitation, during which she seemed to search Peter's eyes for some clue as to his intentions, she nodded.

Peter nodded too, and tried to offer her a smile. It probably came off as vaguely nervous and sick. Oh well. They both did their best to focus on class for the rest of the period. Peter rehearsed what he wanted to say in his head. It sounded stupider each time he went over it, but he was _not_ going to let that stop him. This ridiculousness needed to end. Not to mention MJ deserved an explanation for his dickish behavior. Or as much of an explanation as he could give, at least.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was really only fifty minutes, the bell rang again. MJ started to gather her things, so Peter did to. He could talk and walk. That should work.

He took a deep breath. "So… Um, first I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

MJ was still looking at him like she wasn't sure what he was trying to do, but she nodded in acceptance, so Peter went on with his pre-planned apology.

"I've been acting like a complete jerk. I should have just been honest with you, that I don't… I don't feel that way back. Now, I mean. Believe it or not, I was scared to talk to you because I really didn't want to hurt you. Um… More than I already have, at least." Shit. This was coming out really badly. "It's just… I mean, it's no excuse…"

He paused as they walked to the classroom door, squeezing in among the other students. When they reached the hallway he fell into step beside her. "It's not an excuse, but I, um, was really surprised. When you… You know, kissed me." He could feel his cheeks warming. "I really had no idea you liked me that way. If you even do. I mean, I don't want to make assumptions. I mean… fuck."

Peter ran a hand through his hair, distraught, but was caught by surprise when MJ laughed. He looked sideways at her, eyes widening slightly. Was this funny?

MJ shook her head, smiling lightly. "Okay, okay. I'm still kind of mad, but god Peter… You're such a mess." Peter resisted the urge to frown, confused about whether that was a compliment or an insult. "I guess I forgive you."

Peter stared, almost running into someone's instrument case as they turned a corner. "You… you do?"

MJ shrugged, and tucked her hair behind one ear. "I mean, yeah. I don't want to stop being friends. I miss you, you big dope."

Peter grinned, flooded with sudden, instant relief. "I miss you, too." MJ smiled at that, and Peter couldn't believe he'd waited this long to make things right between them. "And I really am sorry. Really. I didn't even know what was going on, and then there was all the stuff with Harry, and I just didn't know how to tell you-"

MJ paused him, laying a hand on his arm. "Yeah, about that. What _has_ been going on with you and Harry? Because he's been acting weird. Like really weird. And he won't tell me what's up."

Peter blinked at her in surprise. "He didn't tell you?" Somehow, in the last couple days, Peter had fallen under the impression that MJ and Harry must have been talking about him while he avoided them at lunch. Naturally, he assumed that Harry told MJ about liking Peter. And kissing him. The two had become pretty good friends… But clearly Peter was off the mark, as he so often seemed to be these days. It was a bit disheartening.

MJ raised her eyebrows at him, pulling them to a stop beside the door to her next class. "Tell me _what_?" Peter squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. She gave him a look. "Peter Parker, you tell me right now what's going on, or I swear to god…"

"Okay, okay!" Peter shook her hand off his arm and leaned back against the wall, his gaze falling to the floor. "Um…" He hadn't exactly planned out how to tell her _this_ … He stalled for a moment, scuffing his shoe against the edge of the wall. "Harry kind of…" He took a deep breath. "Well, after you kissed me…"

MJ let out a groan of frustration. "Just spit it out, already! Jesus Christ!"

Peter huffed. "Fine." The rest of his words tumbled out in a rush. "Harry acted like he was mad after you kissed me and then when I told him I didn't like you that way he was like 'oh, great!' And then I was like 'yeah, you should have told MJ you liked her.' Except then he was like, 'I don't like MJ, Peter, you're such an idiot.' And I was like 'what?' And then he kissed me."

He fell silent, and when he glanced up at MJ she was staring at him with an open mouth. He looked down again. "Um… Yeah." He raised a hand to the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heating up with discomfort. "And then I kind of flipped out. Because I was confused. And that's why I've been skipping lunch."

There was a beat of silence, and then MJ started to shake her head, laughing in a disbelieving, almost self-deprecating way. "Oh… God. Wow. I feel stupid."

Peter's head whipped up to look at her, mortified. "No! No, no, no! _I'm_ the stupid one."

She reached up and ruffled his hair. Usually Peter hated that, but he let her do it without complaint. Just this once. "Such an idiot." She muttered.

"Yeah. I am."

She rolled her eyes. "Not _you_. Although you are, too. But Harry's the idiot in this particular situation."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "He is?"

MJ sighed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Duh." She took Peter's hand and started playing with his fingers. "He's older and more experienced. And he knows you. He should have known that you'd be totally clueless and freak out unnecessarily."

Peter frowned, somehow feeling like that explanation was more insulting to him than to Harry. "I guess…"

MJ squeezed his hand. "So are you still confused?"

Peter blinked at her. "About what?"

She smirked. "About Harry. Are you still confused about Harry?"

"Oh." He glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable again. "Well… Not exactly."

"What does that mean?" She glanced around them at the thinning crowd. "And hurry up, you'll be late."

Peter huffed again. "I don't know about Harry. I mean, I... I think I liked… It…" He shifted under MJ's keen gaze. "But I don't know if I want… That… I guess. I just know…" He took a shuddering breath. "That I, um… Like guys. Or, I can like guys. Now." Peter fell silent, his stomach churning with nerves. Was this him, like, coming out? It hadn't felt this awkward with Wade.

MJ didn't let him feel nervous for long. "Cool." She said casually. "Well, talk to Harry. Because I'm not gonna let you skip lunch today." Peter gave her a questioning look, but she just smiled. "Now go to class, dork."

And with that she was gone, dropping his hand and disappearing into her classroom. Peter stood staring after her for a moment before he realized the halls were almost empty. He speed-walked to his classroom and just reached the door as the bell rang.

Peter felt better now that things were cleared up with MJ. But as his classes passed and lunch approached, he started to feel nervous again. Now he'd have to face Harry. And as much as he'd agonized over it last night, he hadn't been able to figure out the right thing to say. Or do. In fact, he was still swimming in an ocean of confusion and doubt when it came to Harry.

So as he was packing up his stuff at the sound of the bell, preparing to head to the cafeteria, he was started to mentally panic. Would Harry be mad that Peter had been avoiding him? Or worse, sad? What if he'd decided he didn't like Peter anymore? Would that be a bad thing? The pang in Peter's stomach told him that it might be. And that didn't help with his confusion. No matter what, Peter wasn't going to skip out on lunch. He'd resolved to face both of his friends today, and more importantly, MJ would stab him with a charcoal pencil if he didn't show.

So Peter was building up his courage and worrying about how his hair looked when he left the classroom. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the person standing outside the door until he ran right into them. "Shit, sorry!"

He looked up as two gentle hands caught his shoulders, steadying him. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Harry standing there, looking simultaneously concerned and oddly determined. When he registered Peter's shock, that Burberry-model face relaxed into a small smile. "Hey." He let his hands fall away.

"Hey." Peter breathed in reply, still reeling a bit from the older boy's sudden and unexpected appearance.

Harry glanced around at the crowded hallway before nodding to the side, indicating that they should step out of the way. Peter following him obediently, and they walked down the hall a few steps before ducking into an alcove beside a bank of lockers.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he realized he had no idea where to start.

Thankfully, Harry took care of that. "Sorry. I know you needed your space, and I've been trying to give it to you, but I just couldn't stay away any longer."

Peter blinked at him in surprise. "You… But _I_ was the one avoiding _you_."

Harry laughed breathily, tucking his hands into his pockets and leaning back against the wall. "You work in my father's building. You don't think I could have come found you?" Oh. Right. "Anyway. If you need more time, that's fine. I just needed to see you. Wanted to know what you're thinking, I guess."

Harry looked down at the ground, his mouth twisting into a small, sad frown. When Peter looked closer, he realized that there were dark circles under Harry's eyes and a distinctly exhausted look in the lines of his face. He even looked less put together than usual, although not by much. He was wearing Adidas sweatpants and a Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt, a noticeable difference from his usual off-the-runway look.

Peter frowned, his stomach sinking as he realized that his stupid freak out hadn't just been affecting him alone. "I'm sorry." He said instantly, reaching for Harry's hand, only to hesitate, and let his own hand drop back down to his side. "I was being stupid. I… I don't need space."

Harry raised his eyes back to Peter's, and there was a fond look in them as their gazes met. "You're just saying that to make me feel better." Harry stated matter-of-factly. "It's okay. I know I kinda jumped into things without any warning. Sorry about that."

Peter shook his head in denial. "No, it's okay. I just… Was confused. And surprised."

Harry nodded understandingly, but his eyes were turning sad. "I know. And look, I get it. You might not even swing that way, let alone feel that way about _me_. So it's fine, you know. You don't like me. It's cool. But I hope we can keep being friends because I… I really like you Peter. I don't want to lose you."

Peter stared, made breathless by this stunning display of vulnerability from a boy who kept most people at a distance and had a relationship with his father that could optimistically be described as 'professional.' Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to wrap Harry up in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

So he did.

Peter stepped forward, his arms wrapping easily around Harry's neck as he pressed his face into the older boy's collar, smelling the familiar scent of expensive aftershave and new clothes. "You won't lose me." He mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. "I promise." He breathed out in relief as Harry relaxed against him, his arms snaking around Peter's waist and holding him closer, cheek coming to rest against Peter's hair.

They stood like that for a moment, both relieved to know that they weren't losing each other. Then Peter pulled back slightly, his hands slipping down to curl against Harry's chest as he realized that he had more to say.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to give you the silent treatment and make you worry, I just… I didn't know what to think."

Harry shook his head, arms sliding away until just his hands remained gripping Peter gently by the waist. "Don't even stress about it. And it wasn't just you. My father has been… Well, worse than usual. Ever since he got back from his trip over the weekend… I don't know. I mean, of course I was thinking about you. Wondering what was going through your head."

Peter felt even more terrible for avoiding Harry these past couple days, especially since it was clear that his friend had needed him. He wished he could say something to make it better. "It's not that I don't like you… In that way… I'm just not sure. I mean, I don't know. What I want." He willed Harry to understand, because he didn't want to cause the older boy any more anxiety.

Harry nodded at him. "That's okay." His expression turned thoughtful. "Did you like it when I kissed you?"

Peter felt his cheeks growing warm. "Um…" It wasn't that he didn't know, he was just embarrassed to say it out loud.

Harry seemed to take his reluctance to answer as uncertainty, because he smiled a small, sad smile. "Well… Maybe this will help."

And then he was leaning in again, and it was like déjà vu as Peter watched him approaching, saw the kiss coming from miles away. His heart beat faster, his stomach dropped, and then Harry's lips were pressing against his. Again.

Peter's second kiss.

It was easier this time. Nicer, even. It wasn't so unexpected or foreign when their lips began to move, molding together in some inexplicable, silent communication. And it was warm. And soft. And Peter could hear his heart beating in his ears. And when he sucked in a ragged breath, his teeth scraped against Harry's bottom lip, so he bit down lightly.

Harry let out a short, startled moan, his hands tightening reflexively on Peter's waist.

Peter jerked back in surprise and his eyes flew open. He met Harry's gaze and was shocked to see those blue eyes darkened with something unfamiliar… Desire? Lust? Whatever it was made Peter feel hot and squirmy, and he lowered his eyes to escape the intensity. He swallowed.

Harry was breathing slightly harder than before, and it took a few moments for him to speak. "Did you… Like that?"

It seemed like such a silly question now. Peter just nodded mutely.

One of Harry's hands fell away, only to reappear at Peter's face, where he carefully brushed a few strands of hair off his forehead. Then his fingers were curling around Peter's chin, easing his head up until he was making eye contact again.

"So… What're you confused about?" He was smiling warmly, practically glowing with satisfaction and happiness. Peter felt terrible. He wanted to please his friend. He wanted to say yes. Let's date. Whatever. Whatever you want.

But it was so much more complicated than that. Even if Peter _did_ want to date Harry, would that be fair to him? Peter had a whole separate, secret life. One that he could never tell anyone about. Not even his boyfriend, if he ever had one.

Peter huffed in frustration and misery. "It's just… I don't _know_ … If I want to date. You. I mean, I… I like this and all, and… And I love you, you know that." The words caused his heart to stutter nervously. "But I don't know… I just… You're my best friend."

Harry released his chin, but his gaze remained kind and warm. "Okay. Don't worry about it, Petey, I understand."

Peter looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. "You do?"

Harry nodded. "Of course. No pressure, okay? None at all." He grinned briefly. "We can keep being friends. And maybe friends with… you know. Other stuff." Peter didn't look entirely convinced, so he went on. "It'll be chill. No strings, no worries. Just us. Being friends."

Peter nodded slowly. That sounded… Okay.

"Great." Harry looked happy. So Peter was happy, too. It was nice not to be avoiding his best friends anymore. "Now that that's settled, let's get to lunch. I'm sure MJ is wondering where the hell we are."

Peter groaned. "Oh no… She's gonna kill me."

Harry just laughed, grabbing Peter's hand and threading their fingers together. Peter didn't mind as he was pulled back into the now-empty hallway and led to the cafeteria.

But Harry didn't let go when they got there. He held on to Peter's hand as they wound there way through tables and chairs until they reached MJ who was smirking deviously at them. Peter's cheeks were definitely some shade of red by this point.

"Oh. My god." MJ grinned at them as they sat down, Harry pulling his chair a lot closer to Peter's than he usually did. "You guys are too fucking cute." She gasped, clapping her hands together. "Oh my god! Does this mean I have two gay best friends? Because that makes me twice as fabulous!"

Peter glared at her.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter's couldn't wipe the wide smile from his face as he sailed through the air, flying and dipping in arc after dizzying arc as he swung through the city. It hadn't felt this good to swing in weeks. He'd been run down, but tonight it felt like nothing could stop him.

He had his friends back. He was on the way to see Wade. Spider-Man would help some people tonight. So would Deadpool, for that matter. Everything felt like it was falling into place for the first time in a long time.

As he neared the Hilton hotel, he could spot a familiar red and black figure on the roof. He was practicing some deadly-looking ninja moves with his katanas, lunging and slicing and bending in a beautiful solo dance. Peter couldn't help but grin as he swung through the air and severed his web, landing silently behind Deadpool, a good few yards away.

"Nice moves!" He called out, already taking a step towards the mercenary.

In the next second, several things happened all at once. A sharp, demanding shock of warning shot down Peter's spine. Wade spun around to face him and all of a sudden a throwing knife was sailing through the air, straight towards Peter.

He dropped to the ground, heart leaping into this throat as the blade narrowly missed his head.

There was a beat before Deadpool gasped. "Oh, shit! Sorry, Spidey!"

Peter pushed himself up and got to his feet, adrenalin pounding through him, making his breath come quick. "What the fuck?" He yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

Deadpool moved towards him, sheathing his katanas and holding his hands out to Peter, as if he intended to pat him down for injuries. "I didn't know it was you!"

Peter knocked Wade's hands away as soon as he was within reach. "Who the fuck else would it be? Are you meeting other guys up here? You have other friends who dress up in costumes and can climb walls?" Peter hadn't exactly climbed up here tonight, but that wasn't the point.

Deadpool shook his head emphatically. "Sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn't thinking."

Peter rolled his eyes, although he knew Wade couldn't see it through the mask. "Well next time you do something to me without thinking, I hope it's not deadly." He could almost see Wade's mouth falling open, and he fought the sudden urge to laugh.

Ignoring the way Wade was now staring at him in shock, Peter glanced around for the knife. It must have sailed over the edge of the roof, because he couldn't see it anywhere. Hopefully it hadn't hurt anyone on the ground. "Where the hell did that come from, anyway?" Both of Wade's hands had been occupied when Peter surprised him.

"Oh…. Uh…." Wade clasped his hands behind his back and rocked forward onto his toes, suddenly avoiding Peter's gaze. "Nowhere…" Peter raised his eyebrows at the suspiciously unnecessary shiftiness, but decided to let it go. He probably didn't want to know, anyway.

"Okay." He looked at Deadpool for another moment before glancing back over the city. Suddenly, all he could think about was seeing Wade last night. And how he'd wanted the mercenary to stay with him longer. Just to talk. Just to be there. Because being with Wade (as Deadpool too, if he was being honest) was weirdly comforting. Now he had to remember how to be Spider-Man. Not Peter.

Wade didn't seem to mind his momentary distraction. "So how was your night off?" He skipped forward, invading Peter's space. "Do anything fun? Use those pretty buns?" He made as if to grab Spidey's ass, but Peter dodged him easily, smiling in spite of himself.

"No…" He scolded. Wade just shrugged as if to say 'can you blame me for trying?' Peter shook his head and tried to redirect the persistent mercenary. "What about you? What did you do last night?"

Deadpool bounced up and down on the balls of his feet like a kid who had done something particularly exciting. "I saved someone. All by myself!" He certainly sounded pleased with himself.

Peter grinned. "All by yourself? Wow. I guess the training wheels are coming off, Pool. Good job."

Wade threw his hands into the air. "Don't you even want to hear the story?"

Peter chuckled, but lowered himself onto the edge of the roof and patted the pavement next to him, inviting Wade to sit down. "Go ahead."

Wade practically threw himself down at Peter's side, clearly way too enthused about this whole thing. "Okay. So I was just doing my own thing, minding my own business, you know. Totally _not_ jerking off to furry porn or anything weird like that." Peter snorted, trying his hardest to hold back a laugh. Wade pointed an accusing finger at him. "Hush. I'm telling a story, here." Peter nodded gravely. "So there I was, not doing anything remotely erotic, and this friend of mine texts me." Peter smiled. It made him feel strangely happy to hear Wade refer to him as a friend. He had a feeling the mercenary didn't have many of those. "And he's like, help! I'm trapped somewhere and I need you to come save me. So I raced over there right away, and-"

"How did you get there?" Peter was grinning. He didn't mind Wade embellishing the story, but he couldn't resist messing with him _just_ a tad.

"Um…" Wade shifted slightly. "That's not the important part. Shut up and listen to the story." Peter chuckled, but nodded his agreement. "So I get there, and I bust down the door, and these assholes have him cornered." Wade had been gesturing dramatically up until this point, but now his hands clenched into fists where they were resting on his thighs. "And they're about to… Hurt him." For a moment, his voice went tight with anger, and Peter fell still at the memory of Wade in the bar. So beautifully furious and so very, very dangerous. Peter swallowed. There was a beat before Wade continued. "So I swoop in and knock the shithead out. I don't even kill him! Even though I wanted to. I definitely wanted to."

Peter suppressed a shiver at Wade's tone. "Wow. Sounds like you were quite the hero." He couldn't believe how considerate Deadpool, of all people, was being by not mentioning all the embarrassing details of Peter's damsel-in-distress episode.

"Aw, it was nothing." Wade ducked his head and waved Peter away in a classis 'aw shucks' movement. A moment passed, then, "But I was, wasn't I?"

Peter grinned. "Totally. I'm proud of you."

Wade looked at him, and Peter could tell through the Deadpool mask that he was grinning back.

It was a nice moment. But it didn't last. Wade ducked his head again to hiss under his breath. "No, idiot. So shut up about it, already."

Peter's smile faded away and he shifted a little closer to Wade's side, trying to offer some silent comfort. "What're they saying?" He asked.

He'd gotten quite the impression from what Yellow and White had chosen to say to him when he'd last asked about them. It was clear, at least to Peter, that the voices were like expressions of different parts of Wade. He thought that Yellow might be a representation of Wade's impulses, judging by the compliment he'd paid Spider-Man. But that might be more than a bit of a stretch. And White seemed more like Wade's doubts. Peter was more sure about that one, since White had attempted to warn Spidey away from Deadpool.

Wade sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly and his arm brushing against Peter's at the motion. "White's just reminding me that I'm not actually a hero."

Peter frowned. "You are!" He protested. Then he realized that he should probably clarify. "At least, you are for some people. You were a hero for- Um… Your friend, last night."

Wade shrugged. "Yeah. I guess. But it's not like that cancels out all the bad shit I do every other day of the week."

Peter looked out of the city, considering that. "Well… Maybe not. But if you keep patrolling with me and maybe, um…" He didn't want to tell Deadpool to stop killing people. Even though he didn't like it, Peter realized that that would be like telling Deadpool not to be who he was. That wasn't exactly fair. "Just keep helping people. I think you can be a hero."

Wade was looking at him rather intently. "You really think so?" There was a cautious, careful hope in the tilt of his head.

Peter nodded solemnly.

Wade seemed to smile. "Thanks, Baby Boy."

Peter shrugged, feeling his cheeks growing a little warm.

Wade, as usual, seemed to sense when a subject change was in order. "So, little spider. Did you get a chance to deal with your boy troubles?" He leaned back, resting his elbows on the ground so he was reclining backwards as he looked up at Peter. "Did you get Aaron to figure out that Regina's been cheating on him and he should really have been with you all along?" Peter chuckled at the Mean Girls reference. Before he could answer, Wade started singing in a falsetto voice. "I kissed a boy, and I liked it… The taste of his Old Spice chap stick."

Peter scoffed in amusement. "What the fuck is Old Spice chap stick? That's disgusting."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it!" Wade sing-songed cheerily.

Peter rolled his eyes, laughter in his voice. "You're so weird."

"I know you are, but what am I?" Wade tipped his head to the side, growing serious once again. "So…?"

Peter took a breath, calming down after his laughter. "Yeah… Yeah I did deal with it, actually."

Wade seemed to go strangely still. "Oh. Good. What, um… What did you decide?"

Peter looked away, kicking his legs over the open air. "Well…" It felt strange, to be telling Wade this all over again. "I decided I can be attracted to guys, I guess. So that makes me… Bi, or something. I don't really think the labels matter."

Wade nodded. "Yeah, labels are shit." There was a beat of silence. "So… You and Harold are like, together now?" There was an edge to Wade's voice that sounded almost like worry.

"Um…" Peter looked down at Deadpool's blank mask. "No. I told him I didn't want to date."

"Oh." Peter couldn't help but notice how Wade's demeanor seemed to immediately brighten. "Cool. I guess. Not for him. But whatever." Wade sat up and slung one arm over Peter's shoulders. "So Spidey's single and ready to mingle. You gonna give the Iron Giant a call?"

Peter laughed and pushed Wade away playfully. "Shut up. That's gross." He was glad that Wade was happy, but he couldn't shake the feeling that what he'd said was kind of a lie… He had _technically_ told Harry he didn't want to date, but they hadn't exactly settled on strictly platonic terms, either. That kiss certainly hadn't been platonic… He wasn't sure why he hadn't been honest with Wade, but he dismissed the musings from his mind. It didn't matter. Wade was happy and Peter had his friends back and things were going well for once.

"Right. Of course. Age gap kinks are totally… You know. Ew. Like who would want that?" Wade sounded a bit manic. "Shut it, Yellow."

Peter laughed, but he bumped shoulders with Wade so the mercenary would know he meant it good-naturedly. "I meant hooking up with Mr. Stark would be gross." He shuddered a little just at the thought. "Not necessarily because he's older than me."

"Oh." Wade seemed surprised by that, and then he went silent and seemed to be thinking for several long seconds. Peter wasn't sure he wanted Wade to be thinking… whatever he was probably thinking. So he started climbing to his feet and hooked his hands under one of Wade's massive biceps, pulling him up as well.

"Come on, Red. Let's go be heroes."

Wade leapt to his feet with surprising agility, shooting up like a jack rabbit and bouncing around like an overgrown ( _really_ overgrown) puppy that knew it was about to be taken on a walk.

"We can be heroes, forever and ever!" Wade sang, serenading Peter with an outstretched hand. "We can be heroes… Just for one day."

Peter laughed, waving Wade away and walking over to the edge of the roof that bordered the less crowded street.

Wade followed, still singing enthusiastically. "Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact!" He grabbed at Peter as if he were trying to pull him into a dramatic dip, but Peter slid agilely away before Wade could get a grip on him, still laughing lightly. "Yes we're lovers!" He blew Peter a kiss. "And that is that." Peter mimed catching it and throwing it over the edge of the roof.

Wade sucked in a sharp breath, planting his hands on his hips. "That was harsh, Spidey-boy. Harsh."

"Hush. I'm trying to listen." Peter shushed Wade playfully, and when silence fell he closed his eyes and broadened his focus.

Cars. Talking. Laughing. Footsteps. The whirs and bangs of construction. A dog barking. A baby crying. Horns honking.

Wade stepped closer to him, and Peter found himself growing distracted by the warmth he could feel radiating through Deadpool's suit. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus again.

A door slamming. Yelling. Pots and pans banging together. Another dog barking. Car breaks screeching. A woman crying.

Peter zeroed in on that. She was begging for someone to let her go. A moment later, a man's voice could be heard telling her to shut up and stop moving. The woman cried harder.

Peter opened his eyes, mouth setting into a grim line. He turned to wade, who was close enough that Peter had to tilt his head back to look up at him. He held out his hand. "Ready to go save someone?"

This time, the grin beneath Deadpool's mask was unmistakable. "Hell yeah."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
Save Tonight - Eagle-Eye Cherry  
Lyrics:  
I Kissed a Girl - Katy Perry  
Heroes - David Bowie

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	8. Stars Collide, Worlds Divide

**Wade**

[White]  
{Yellow}

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

{Pew pew pew! Pew! Die alien scum, die!}

[You're fighting aliens? I thought it was cowboys.]

{Weeeeoooooweeeeoooooweeeeoooooo BOOM! Take that, you ball-sucking d-bags!}

[How can they both suck scrotums and _be_ them? Is that anatomically possible?]

{Duh. They're alien cowboys. They can do anything.}

[Then how do they have sex?]

{Ever seen Pink Floyd's The Wall? I'm imagining a big flower thing, and they open up, and one can become the catcher, if you know what I mean, while the other one becomes the pitcher, and its pollen stick thing is the penis. So in other words-}

[We got the metaphor, Yellow.]

{And then they're just like eating each other whole and fucking to death like in the movie. And they have teeth! Really big teeth that can-}

[Interesting. So do they have different genders or are they all just intersex?]

{Hm… Intersex. So they can all fuck each other ALL THE TIME! Wouldn't it be great if that was how the world was?}

[We'd never get anything done.]

"True that." Wade muttered, finally interrupting the boxes' drawn out conversation. He didn't blame them. They needed to entertain themselves somehow while Wade sat here, completely motionless, watching the apartment through his scope. "Still, it wouldn't kill you to help out every once in a while." He mumbled under his breath, eyes still trained on the window he was watching.

{You don't want our help. We suck at stakeouts.}

[ _You_ suck at stakeouts. You get distracted too easily.]

{Oh, and you don't? Who was so interested in how the cowliens have sex?}

[What the fuck is a cowlien? That's the stupidest name I've ever heard.]

{You're just jealous that you didn't come up with it first.}

[Oh yeah. Yeah, I'm _jealous_ that I'm not stupider than a rock and less original than a grain of sand.]

{Hey. You fucking take that back.}

[I will not.]

{You will. You will TAKE THAT BACK YOU MOTHER FUCKING PIECE OF FILTHY TRASH.}

[God, you have no fucking finesse. You think that's gonna convince me to do shit?]

{Oh, I can convince you.}

"Hey…" Wade growled a quiet warning, but neither box paid him the least bit of attention.

[Wanna bet? You couldn't convince a fly to land on you even though you're literally a pile of shit.]

{Oh… That's fucking _it_. You're definitely going to regret that.}

[Make. Me.]

{Uh oh. There you go again talking cinematic. Yeah, you! You're charming, got everybody star struck.}

White was managing to maintain steely silence as Yellow began those first fateful lines of their least favorite song, but Wade couldn't suppress a small groan. That awful catchy tune would be stuck in his head for days now.

{IF WE WERE A MOVIE, YOU'D BE THE RIGHT GUY! AND I'D BE THE BEST FRIEND, YOU'D FALL IN LOVE WITH!}

[Okay.] White's voice was thick with frustration and resignation.

{IN THE END WE'D BE LAUGHING, WATCHING THE SUNSET FADE TO BLACK}

[I said okay. Shut up.]

{SHOW THE NAMES! PLAY THE HAPPY SONG!}

"Shhh." Wade hissed before Yellow could start in on the next verse, already standing and folding his rifle up in fluid, easy motions.

[He's here?]

"He's here."

{Oh, goodie!}

They had finally gotten a solid lead. It had never taken them this long before, but finally, a week and a half after they started their search, they had found one of the people looking into old Weapon X information.

[I still think it wouldn't have taken this long if we hadn't been so _distracted_.]

{Oh, shut it already. You like hanging with Spidey, too.}

[I do not. I tolerate it.]

{Tolerate it my ass! You _lurve_ him almost as much as Wade and I do.}

"Uh, guys? Not like we haven't had this argument a hundred times already, but do you think we could put it on hold until after the kidnapping, torture, and probably murder? Our dinner date is only gonna be out for an hour. Tops." Wade was currently tight-rope walking the line he'd strung between the apartment building and the offices across the street where he'd been hiding out, lying in wait. He couldn't afford to burst in through the window this time; it would be too conspicuous.

{Hold up. Merlin's fine ass titties did you just say _probably_ murder?}

[He must have been mistaken.] White's voice was dangerously low. [He meant definitely. Right, Wade?]

Wade huffed. "Yeah, that's what I meant. Duh." This guy was Weapon X. Even if he wasn't technically, he still _was_ , you know? Any association with the former mutate-creating organization earned a guy a giant red X in Wade's book. So yeah, he was gonna kill him. And hopefully Spidey just wouldn't find out.

{You don't think he knows we still take jobs?}

[We hardly do anymore.] White pointed out venomously. [Ever since we started _patrolling_ with a fucking superhero.]

Wade gritted his teeth, cutting the line behind him and walking quickly and silently across the roof to slip open the vent access he'd unlocked (with a crowbar) earlier. "It's only been a couple weeks. Not even. And we've been busy with other stuff, too. Like tracking down this son of a bitch. We haven't had the time to take as many hits as usual."

[Excuses.] White hissed. [You've been thinking you could be a _hero_ , too. You've been thinking that maybe, if you team up with Spidey and stop killing people for shits and giggles-]

{And money.}

[And money, that you might be able to _redeem_ yourself.]

{Poor Wadey, so stupid. You'll always be a killer. You're so soaked in the blood of your victims that you'll never get the scent of it off your skin.}

[Wow, that was almost poetic.]

{Fuck yeah, it was.}

[Yellow's right. You're tainted. You can never be pure again.]

"I fucking know." Wade growled. "Now shut up so I can focus." He was army-crawling through the vents, cold metal pressing to his suit, sticking as he tried to force his way down the cramped tube. It was an extremely tight fit, given how large Wade was, and it was almost difficult to keep track of how many feet he'd traveled as he inched along.

{How did we do this earlier? It seemed easier a few hours ago.}

[Wade ate since then.]

"Are you calling me fat?" Wade quipped, finally coming to a stop right above what should be the living room of his mark's apartment. He reached forward, grunting in discomfort as his elbows jammed against the sides of the vent, and popped the vent cover out. It clattered noisily to the floor below, but Wade wasn't worried about noise inside the apartment. Not yet, anyway. He wriggled forward until his upper body was hanging out of the hole, his eyes skimming the motionless room behind his mask.

{Watch our babies!} Yellow squeaked as Wade prepared to drop down.

"I know, I know." He made sure the katanas had clearance before gripping the edge of the vent and flipping himself down and out. He dropped silently to the floor, eyes scanning the apartment again. No movement.

He straightened up and walked over to the man slumped awkwardly against the side of the nondescript couch.

[He's smaller than we thought he'd be.]

Wade nudged the unconscious man's leg with his boot, his head tipped slightly to one side as he considered him. "Yeah… he's kind of ratty, isn't he?"

{Well, that _is_ appropriate since he's a fucking rat.}

Wade hummed his agreement and bent down to retrieve the small canister of gas (now empty) from under the couch. He pulled it out, reeling up the nearly invisible fishing line as well, and tucked it all inside one of his pouches. No need to leave any evidence with the Deadpool insignia on it. Not this time.

He'd come in a few hours ago, scoped the place out, searched it thoroughly. He hadn't been able to find anything of relevance. Anything at all, really. The apartment was conspicuously bare. Just the standard sets of plain furniture, a television, a few generic sweaters and pants in the closet, a pair of shoes, a coat, take out boxes in the fridge. No papers, no books, no photographs or personal artifacts of any kind.

This guy was a professional.

It was a testament to just _how_ professional he was that it had taken Deadpool this long to find him. And in the end it had been luck, really. None of the people he'd questioned had been able to tell him anything. The best he'd gotten was a description of a guy between thirty and forty years old, average height with dark hair. Like that was fucking helpful. His big break had been because of a taco. That's right, a taco.

{One more reason to fucking love those things. Gifts from the gods, I say.}

[You'll eat anything, Yellow. Don't pretend otherwise.]

After questioning a relative of one of Weapon X's old victims, Wade had been frustrated with the lack of information he received regarding the kind, mysterious visitor who'd come asking similar questions. When he was frustrated, he got hungry. And when he got hungry, he craved Mexican food. So he'd stepped into the international market across the street to pick up the necessary ingredients for tacos. And that was where, lo and behold, he'd spotted some very well placed security cameras. One of them had been knocked off course. It had been pointing across the street.

And that was how Wade had tracked down Mr. Smith. Mr. John Smith, if you could believe it. And Wade didn't. He was sure that the name on the lease for this barren apartment was a pseudonym. Hopefully he could, er, _persuade_ Mr. Smith to give up his real name, but it was starting to look like he might be a hard nut to crack.

[Mm, those are the best…]

{They're the tastiest, once you finally get to their sweet red insides.}

[It's so beautiful to see what's left of them when they finally crack…]

{Oh, I just can't wait to get started! Let's start now. Right now.}

[He's not even conscious.]

{So?}

"He won't be able to answer any of our questions." Wade pointed out plainly as he pulled twine out from one of his pouches. He would use fishing line again, but that stuff really cut into the skin and Wade didn't want his friend's extremities to be numb. He might have need of those.

[He won't be able to scream for us.]

{Oh. Why didn't you just say so? I guess we have to wait.}

Wade rolled his eyes, dragging a plain wooden chair in from the small kitchenette. "Upsy-daisy!" He exclaimed as he grabbed the unconscious man and heaved him up into the chair. He was a bit heavier than he looked. Wade tied his wrists and ankles to the arms and legs on the chair three times over with the twine, using his best knots. Then, just in case this guy _really_ knew what he was doing, Wade patted him down for weapons (found none) and tied his torso to the chair as well. Then he pulled out some superglue and glued the chair to the ground. He'd have preferred something sturdier that couldn't be picked up and broken by ramming into a wall, but this would have to do. The guy really didn't own much furniture.

"Anything else?" Wade asked casually as he surveyed his hard work.

[What about the screaming?]

"Calm your titties, we'll get to that. You're so- Oh…. Oh, yeah." Wade pulled out some duct tape and ripped a piece off, then pressed it over Mr. Smith's mouth. "Hopefully he doesn't have a head cold." It wouldn't do to have his informant suffocate before they got to the fun stuff. Wade stood and watched for a minute, and when it seemed like the guy was breathing alright, he turned and sank down easily onto the plain red couch.

[Now we wait.]

{Aw… I hate waiting.}

"I'm sure you'll find someway to entertain yourself." Wade kept his eyes fixed steadily on his mark, waiting for any twitch of movement, any sign of life.

Yellow did find a way to entertain himself, much to White and Wade's dismay. It was thirty-six minutes later, when Wade was seriously considering putting a knife through his eye just to get a break, that Mr. Smith woke up.

He twitched first, a small movement at the fingers, and Wade was immediately on alert. Then he rolled his head to one side, a quiet groan muffled behind the tape. It took another minute before he could raise his head and blink his eyes open, staring around in confusion. When his eyes finally caught on Deadpool, sitting perfectly still on his couch, a look of confusion passed over his features. It took a few seconds for the confusion to clear into recognition, and then his plain brown eyes went dead.

"Fuck." Wade cursed quietly, watching the tightening of the man's jaw before he seemed to relax into the wooden chair, eyes going glassy and distant. This fucker knew how to dissociate. He knew what Wade was here for, and he was going to try to hold out on him.

{No one holds out on us…} Yellow hissed.

[No one.]

Wade stood in one fluid motion. "I guess we're in for a long night, huh?" He smiled slowly beneath the mask. "That's alright. I don't mind."

He took a knife out first. He preferred to start that way. It got the weak ones talking fast, and it gave the strong ones something to think about, something to ache and burn while he moved on to other things. And he knew just where to cut to inflict the most pain without risking too much blood loss.

Wade knelt down in front of his captive, reaching out and grabbing the man's chin when he wouldn't focus on Wade's face. "I assume you don't have anything to say before we get started?" He asked, keeping his tone pleasant. He got no response. "Oh good. I was hoping you wouldn't choose the easy way out."

Wade started humming The Sweet Escape as he unlaced Mr. Smith's shoes and slid them off, along with his socks. He brought the tip of his knife to the delicate skin between the toes, and smiled as he felt the minute jerk in John's leg.

He started slicing. Just paper-cut thin, shallow little openings. They wouldn't even bleed much. But they would hurt like hell with every twitch of the toes or feet.

{If I could escape…} Yellow began singing along, tone gleeful. {And recreate a place that's my own world. And I could be your favorite girl forever! We could make it better. Tell me boy, now wouldn't that be sweet?}

[No one's escaping tonight!] Even White was cheerful now.

Wade set the knife aside and stood up, reaching into his pouches for more tools. He lined them all up on the couch, right in Mr. Smith's line of sight. A lighter. A pair of pliers. Several more knives. His smallest gun. A small bag of salt. A flask containing acid. A plastic bag. The fishing wire. And a pair of brass knuckles.

"I never got to go to superhero school." Wade began casually, running his gloved fingers over the line of tools, as if considering which one to pick first.

[That's because we're not fucking heroes.]

Wade ignored White. "I wanted to, you know. I mean, before I met the tight-ass fuckers, I thought the X-Men were cool as shit. The Avengers, too, if we're gonna be honest."

{Yeah… We thought Black Widow was hot. But she's just a cold hard bitch.}

[We still think she's hot.]

{Not as hot as _our_ spider!}

"Anyway, that ship sailed a long time ago. I went to a different kind of school." Wade plucked the plastic bag from the line and began spreading it out in his hands. "I learned about pain." He moved unhurriedly behind John's chair, smiling as he noticed the man's shoulders stiffening ever so slightly. "Learned the best ways to cause it. I got a _lot_ of first hand experience, you know. Had the best teachers and everything."

Wade paused there, tilting his head to the side in consideration. "I'm not sure I was one of their favorites, though. I'd ask them, but, well… They're dead." He brought the bag down in front of John's face and pressed it down over his mouth and nose, pulling it back and tightening it behind his head.

To his credit, John Smith didn't make a sound. He went tense. And after nearly a minute he began jolting slightly, hands and legs straining against his restraints, the veins in his neck standing out underneath thin paper skin.

Wade didn't release him for another minute or so. This guy was trained, that was clear enough. He could handle Wade going a little hard on him. When he finally pulled the bag away from his face, John inhaled sharply through his nose, head falling forward, breath turning heavy and ragged.

Wade walked back around to the couch, completely at ease. He set the bag down in its spot and considered the other objects. "What next, hm?"

{The lighter. Set him on fire! Burn him up!} Yellow was getting too excited already.

[Cut him more…] White hissed. [Open him up for us. I want to see his sweet red blood… Then pour salt in his wounds. Oh, he'll scream so sweetly…]

Wade chuckled to himself, hand landing on the pliers. "I think we'll take it a bit more slowly than that. We're here for the long haul, after all." He turned back to his victim, who was clearly trying to calm his heart rate by taking measured breaths through his nose, nostrils flaring. His eyes weren't as glassy as before when they caught sight of what Wade was holding.

Wade grinned. "What do you think, John? Can you do without a few fingernails?" He waited for a moment, as if the man could respond with tape over his mouth. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Three hours later, John wasn't much closer to cracking. Wade had to admire the guy for his resolve. Except wait, no he didn't, because who had maintained a sense of humor and ruggedly good looks for months upon months of nonstop torture? Wade Winston Wilson. That's who. So John Smith wasn't shit.

{At least he's finally making noise! Ah, sweet music to our ears…}

He was, in fact, making noise now. It had taken Wade breaking out the acid for him to start screaming hoarsely, and then he didn't really stop. He was moaning brokenly now, head hanging limply over his legs, blood and tears dripping lazily from his cheeks to stain his jeans.

But screaming didn't mean he was close to giving up information. It was one step closer, sure, but not that much closer. Wade asked him the questions, over and over as he burned the tips of his mangled fingers with the lighter.

"Who are you working for?"

No response.

"Where did you get the Weapon X data?"

Nothing but ragged breaths and whines of pain.

"What are you doing with it?"

Futile struggling against tightly knotted twine.

"What are you still looking for?"

More groans of pain, muffled by the duct tape.

Wade wasn't concerned that his captive was gagged while he was asking his questions. If he decided he wanted to answer, he'd find a way. Besides, Wade wasn't expecting him to crack just yet. But he wanted the questions to sink so deep into this man's subconscious he'd be hearing them on repeat when he passed out from the pain.

White hissed in pleasure as they watched burnt flesh bubble beneath the flame of the lighter. [Yesss….. So beautiful.]

{Ugh. I think I'm getting hard.}

Wade rolled his eyes, pulling the lighter away before Yellow could get gross.

{Aaaaaaw! You're so fucking mean.}

Wade set the lighter down beside his line of tools. He'd used maybe two thirds of them now, and he'd finish the rounds before he started repeating tactics. Wade liked variety; it kept things interesting. He turned to look at the man in the chair, still stubbornly holding on despite deteriorating around the edges.

"You want some water?" Wade asked cheerily. "You didn't have much in your kitchen, but I think I could manage a glass of water if you ask nicely."

Mr. Smith was staring at him with puffy, narrowed eyes. He was suspicious. Wade couldn't blame him.

Wade shrugged. "Suit yourself. I just thought you might like a break before we move on to more exciting things." He hadn't used the salt yet.

He turned as if to select a new tool, but he was stopped by a muffled exclamation. He turned back, eyebrows raising. "Oh… You _did_ want some water?" John nodded jerkily. "Well why didn't you say so! Just a second, my friend."

Wade skipped to the kitchen and pulled a glass from the barren cabinet. He filled it at the sink, and returned to the living room. He brought a hand up to John's face, and the man flinched away. Wade smirked. "I'm just gonna take off your gag, love. You can't really drink from your nose, can you?" The man straightened his head to allow Wade to reach the tape, but Wade hesitated. "You're not going to scream, right?" He allowed an edge to enter his tone. John nodded.

Wade curled his fingers around the edge of the tape and pulled sharply, causing John to gasp as the adhesive was ripped off his skin. Wade gave him a moment before raising the glass. John leaned forward to bring his mouth to the edge, and Wade moved to meet him there. At the last moment, Wade raised the glass over the man's head and poured it over him.

John gasped again, eyes widening in shock as water dripped from the tips of his hair.

"Who are you working for?"

The shock was turning into anger.

"Where did you get the Weapon X data?"

The anger was turning into rage, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing with it?"

"I know who you fucking are." John growled, his voice painfully hoarse after the screaming.

[Fucking _finally_ …]

{Hey, we were having fun!}

[Yeah, but once he talks we can kill him!]

{Oh, yeah. Good.}

Wade planted his hands on his hips. "Oh, good! I should hope so. I'm kind of famous, you know. Especially in your particular scene."

John's mouth was twisted into an ugly sneer. "I know all about what they did to you, _Wade Wilson_."

Wade's fingers twitched, but he kept himself in check. "Ooh, you know my name and my origin story. _Shocking_. Tell me more."

John just laughed, weakly, hoarsely, maniacally. "They'll want you back eventually, you know. You hold the answers. You're what they're looking for."

Wade couldn't stop his hands from clenching into fists this time. "Who?" He growled. He leaned in, placing his hands on John's arms and shoving his face in John's. "Who. Are you. Working for?"

John laughed again, closing his eyes. He laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

{Fucking little rat.} Yellow was furious. White was, too.

So was Wade.

"Fuck." He pushed himself up and paced away, heart pounding. "Fuck." He was still laughing.

Suddenly, Wade was beyond livid. Anger burned through him, hot and all consuming. How dare they. How dare they come back. Wade had _annihilated_ them all. And now they were coming for him again.

Not again.

[Never again.]

{Never.}

Wade drew his katanas, static rushing in his ears. He turned back to John, who had only a moment for realization to enter his eyes, hardly fading into fear before the blades were swinging.

John Smith's head rolled off his shoulders and hit the ground with a dull thud. Blood soaked down through his shirt slowly, steadily. The carpet was going to need to be replaced.

Wade stared, chest heaving. "Fuck!" He yelled, kicking the chair over so the man's body lay beside his head.

He sheathed his katanas.

[This will send them a message.]

{Yeah. They can't _fuck_ with us.}

[We're coming for them.]

{Every last one of them.}

"But we don't even know who they are." Wade stared helplessly down at the corpse he'd just made. Why couldn't he have been fucking patient? For once in his goddamn life.

[We'll find out.]

{We'll keep hunting them.}

[To the ends of the fucking earth.]

{Universe, if we have to.}

Wade sighed, comforted in spite of himself. "I don't think we'll have to go that far." He bent over Mr. Smiths body and started searching the pockets, just in case.

All he had on him was a wallet and apartment key. The wallet contained an ID, no doubt fake, and twenty dollars in cash. Wade had no use for either. Tucked into the back was a slip of paper. Wade pulled it out.

He unfolded it, and realized it was a check. A check for ten thousand dollars.

A check from Oscorp Industries.

"Oh." Well, that made some sense.

Wade wasn't sure whether this information was good or bad news. Oscorp had a _shit ton_ of resources at their disposal. They could keep this stuff alive for a long time.

[It's good news. We know who they are.]

{We can end them.}

Wade nodded slowly. He tucked the check back into Mr. Smith's wallet, and slid the wallet back into his pants. Better if they didn't know for sure that he'd seen it.

Then Wade moved back to the open vent in the ceiling and shimmied his way back to the roof, avoiding all of the cameras. And then he disappeared into the night.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A few days later, Wade was back at the dingy nursing home where Al was staying. He was still confused as fuck about _why_ she wanted to live here when she could probably afford the penthouse suite at the Conrad, but he wasn't about to ask. Besides, it worked out fine for Wade because he might just run into a certain sexy little nerd who made his stomach do weird things.

{I still think he would have hooked up with us.}

[We'd just _saved_ him from a bunch of pedophiles, you think he wanted us coming on to him? You're fucking crazy.]

{Yeah… I guess you're right. No one would want to hook up with Wade's disgusting face, anyway.}

[Especially not a sweet young thing like Peter Parker.]

{Peter Benjamin Parker!} Yellow giggled.

Yes, okay. Wade had done some research on the kid. Nothing too invasive (he was a kid anyway; what would he have to hide?), but enough to find out the basics. Just things like his full name, address, school records (damn that kid was smart), and family history. His parents had died in a car crash when he was six, and his Aunt and Uncle had raised him after that. His Uncle was killed during an attempted robbery just two years ago. Oh, yeah. And Peter interned at Oscorp.

{Insert vaguely ominous music here.}

[What the fuck does that mean?]

{The readers know. Or… They'll find out. Eventually.}

[You're so weird.]

{Thank you.}

The kid hadn't had an easy life, and it was clear that his aunt was struggling to make ends meet. It was a classic American story, similar to thousands of others, but for some reason it made Wade feel especially bad for young Peter. How in the world did a kid like that end up so sweet and kind? Wade had had a shitty childhood, too (although in very different ways than Peter did), and look what had happened to him. Fucked up, even before Weapon X and the boxes and Deadpool.

[Totally fucked up.]

Hell, he'd killed people for a living _before_ he went insane. That was some serious childhood trauma right there.

So anyway, now he was sitting in Blind Al's room, which smelled like old people because… Well, you know. And he was only half-hoping that the cute doe-eyed nephew of Al's nurse would show up. It seemed unlikely, but you never know. Even Wade got lucky sometimes.

[Rarely.]

{Yeah, and like never in the sexual way.}

[Not since your face turned into meatloaf.]

{It's lucky Al is blind, otherwise she would've left a lot sooner than she did!}

[It's a fucking miracle that Peter can even stand to look at you.]

{Ooh, maybe he's secretly blind, too!}

[He's not blind, Yellow. Stop being an idiot.]

{…He could be. Daredevil does some crazy ass shit and he's blind. I think. Wait, isn't he?}

[Just shut up.]

{Wade should wear a mask all the time. Even when he's not being Deadpool.}

[Yeah, like a ski mask that covers everything but his eyes.]

"That might look a little strange." Wade snapped at them. "Since it's the beginning of April and it's already seventy fucking degrees outside." It was already getting hard enough to pull off a hoodie in this weather. Wade fucking hated sunshine.

"You should take me on a walk." Al demanded from her seat on the bed, where she was eating some soup. "If it's as nice out as you say."

"You can walk yourself, old woman. Jesus, what more do you want from me? I'm already watching your stupid daytime television with you." Wade slumped lower in the armchair by the bed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared up at the television mounted on the wall.

"You love Days of Our Lives, fuck face. Don't try to tell me otherwise."

"Shhhh!" Wade shushed her. "Daniella is confronting her sister about having their brother's baby and I want to know if Jared woke up from that coma!"

{He wasn't in a coma, he was faking it! He staged that car crash so he could get the treasure from his grandmother without Brendon finding out.}

"Oh, yeah. Damn, this show is intense."

"Shhh!" Al hushed him sarcastically. Wade threw the remote at her. Then he leaned over and stole her soup.

They watched in silence for a few minutes, then Al decided to be nosey as soon as the commercial break started. "Are you fucking that kid?"

Wade choked on the soup. "What? What the fuck?"

{Peter or Spider-Man? Wait, how would she know about Spider-Man?}

Al was staring intently in his direction, and Wade had the sneaking suspicion that behind those dark sunglasses, her eyes were focused uncannily on his face. "The nurse's nephew. The cute boy you left with the last time you visited."

Wade scowled. "How do you know he's cute?"

Al shrugged. "I could practically hear you popping a boner from across the room."

Wade rolled his eyes. "Now that's just an outright lie. I didn't even get hard. At that point in time. So shut your fucking mouth."

Al snickered. "So you are fucking him?"

Wade coughed. "No. God. Why, do you think I could?"

[Pervert.]

Al shook her head. "Definitely not."

Wade scowled. "Then why the fuck did you ask, old lady? It's none of your goddamn business, anyway."

"Well, if you're trying to pick up jailbait in _my_ nursing home room, I think I deserve to be in on the action."

Wade raised his eyebrows at her. " _You_ want some action with Peter? You're like eighty."

Al shot him a look. A blind look. "And how old are you, Wade Wilson?"

Yellow laughed. {She's got you there, old man!}

"Shut up." Wade hissed.

"But no." Al reached for her glass of water. "I don't want that kind of action. I want money."

Wade gaped at her. "You want me to _pay_ you? For what?"

Al sniffed demurely and took a sip before answering. "For the privilege of coming to visit me, of course."

Wade scoffed. "You're out of your fucking mind, woman. I think the dementia has finally caught up to you."

Al just shrugged. "No problem. I'll just call security and tell them a very scary man is trying to rape me." She leaned over, setting the water down and reaching for the phone beside the bed.

Wade's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Tightly. He stared at her, the air between them nearly crackling with sudden tension. Al's expression remained carefully blank. After a few seconds, Wade relaxed his grip, and leaned back in his chair.

"Fine." He snapped. "How much?"

Al sat back against her pillows with a satisfied smirk. "Two thousand." Wade sighed. "Per visit."

{Do it. It's totally worth it to see those Bambi eyes again.}

[You don't need to come here. You can just text him.]

{You think Wade has the balls to ask the kid out if they don't run into each other in person?}

"I'm not asking him out." Wade muttered. But he gave in with another sigh. "Fine." He pulled out his checkbook and a red crayon, scribbled out a note for two thousand and handed it over. Al tucked it into her saggy old-woman bra.

Days of Our Lives was coming back on, but apparently Al wasn't done bothering Wade. "Did you find out who's restarting Weapon X?"

"I don't know if that's what they're doing." Wade responded automatically, although he had a pretty good idea that it _was_ what they were doing after what John Smith told him.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Wade tapped his fingers restlessly on the arm of his chair. "Yeah. I did."

"…And?"

Wade clenched his teeth. "And I'm dealing with it."

There was silence for a few moments. "You're scared."

Wade's head snapped to look at her, a heavy glare falling uselessly on blind eyes. "The fuck I am." He growled.

Al just smiled thinly. "You are. Like a little boy. I've always been able to tell."

{Fuck you, you wrinkly old hag.}

[Who the hell does she think she is? We're not scared of shit.]

"Your radar's fucking off." Wade snapped. "I'm nothing except angry as hell."

{That's fucking right.}

Al's smile widened. "You're scared because you know they'll be coming for you eventually. Coming to lock you up again."

Wade stiffened.

[She's gone too far.] White was livid.

{We'll fucking show her who's _scared_. Put her back, Wade.}

Wade's jaw clenched, and unclenched. His hands were clutching the arms of the chair so tightly he thought they might break. The air thrummed with electric danger. "Do I need to put you back in The Box?" His voice was low and full of warning.

"Do I need to report a case of elder abuse?" That voice, light and young and smiling, was coming from the doorway.

{Oh no, Petey!} Yellow squeaked.

"No." Said Al casually.

"Yes." Said Wade at the same time, releasing his iron-grip on the chair as he turned to look at Peter.

And fuck. The kid was even hotter than Wade remembered. He was standing there in worn blue jeans and an adorable chemistry cat t-shirt, leaning against the doorjamb in a way that should be _illegal_ with that unfairly sexy look of polite confusion spread across his boyish features. And fuck…

{Those eyes…}

[Stop drooling. He'll notice.]

Peter was still looking confused, so Wade forced himself to focus on something other than the sexy mess of soft brown hair that was falling across his forehead, almost brushing the top of his cute nerd glasses. "Yes. She's definitely abusing me. This elder is abusive."

Peter blinked at him for a moment, then his mouth spread into a wide grin. "I'll make a note on her chart. Aunt May will have to have words with her."

Al shifted in her bed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I should have known you two assholes would gang up on me." She grumbled.

Peter just laughed easily, and Wade tried not to acknowledge the fact that it was a little harder to breath when he made that beautiful sound.

[You've missed your calling all these years, Wade. You're a fantastic stalker of teenage boys.]

"Shut it." Wade breathed, watching closely as Peter pulled a small package out of his pocket. It was some sort of packaged desert, like a tasty cake.

{Whatever happened to Twinkies? Those things were the fucking bomb dot com.}

Peter pushed off the doorframe and walked over to the side of Al's bed, holding the treat out to her. "I swiped this from the nurse's station; thought you might like it."

Al seemed dumbfounded for a moment. Wade knew that she knew exactly where Peter was holding out the cake, so her hesitation in reaching up and taking it was purely surprise. "That's… very nice of you, Peter. Thank you."

Wade resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Are you helping your aunt today?" He asked, trying not to sound too eager. What were the chances that he'd be helping out the one day that Wade decided to come visit?

{The writers must be getting lazy. Coincidences are such cliché literary devices.}

Peter stuck his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "No. I just came to get some money from my aunt for dinner. She's working late again tonight."

Wade frowned slightly. Now that he knew Peter Parker's life story, it made sense why the kid was alone practically all the time. It must suck not to have anyone to come home to each evening. Not that Wade would know what that was like.

"So you're not staying?" Wade asked, and he couldn't totally hide the disappointment in his voice.

Peter smiled this adorable half-smile, and Wade couldn't actually believe that it was directed at _him_. "Actually… I was hoping to run into you. Wanna grab dinner with me?"

Wade's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

{Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Is Pretty Peter asking us out?}

[No. Of course not. He asked us go to dinner with him once before, and that was just out of pity.]

{Yeah, but this time he doesn't have an excuse. And he came _looking_ for us!} Yellow gasped. {I guess it wasn't a coincidence! Sorry writers!}

[He probably feels like he owes us for saving his innocent young ass a couple weeks ago.]

{Oh… That's probably true.}

"I think you broke him." Al's sarcastic tone pulled Wade from his mind, just in time to interrupt whatever embarrassing thing she was going to say next.

"Sure." Wade hurried to respond. "Yeah. Sure. I mean, if you want to."

Peter's smile was practically blinding. "I do." He said.

{Okay. I'm dying.}

[This sucks. I already have to deal with you two fawning over Spider-Man. Now this kid, too? It's sickening.]

"Want to go right now? I'm totally done hanging out with this old hag. She was making us watch soap operas."

Peter chuckled. "Shut up. You love soap operas."

Wade blinked at him, caught off guard. "Well… Yeah, okay. How did you know that?"

Peter suddenly looked a little uncomfortable, and Wade could see the blood rising to his cheeks. "Just a guess. You seem like the kind of guy who… likes… that kind of stuff."

[He's hiding something.]

{What in the world would someone like Peter have to hide? You're being paranoid.}

"See?" Al was unwrapping her desert quite noisily. "Even Peter can tell you're a weepy mess of emotional drama."

Wade reached over to take the remote off her bed, only to throw it at her again. He stood up in one smooth motion, easily dodging the pillow that Al threw at him in retaliation. "Shall we?" He asked Peter, striding to the door and holding it open.

"Bye, Al. Have a nice evening" Peter said politely before ducking under Wade's outstretched arm to exit back into the hallway.

Wade fixed Al with a warning look that she probably couldn't see. "Be good, old lady. Maybe I'll come bust you out of this joint sometime." She ate her tasty cake in silence as Wade stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him, not deigning his veiled threat with any response.

Wade fell into step beside Peter, suddenly a bit nervous to be hanging out with the kid again. He'd been very composed about Wade's face the other two times they'd met (except for the first time he'd seen this fucked up mug, but that was to be expected). Wade was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for some sign that Peter was just being overly nice out of some twisted sense of morality or pity. Some indication that he was faking the friendliness, gagging on the inside.

But it didn't come. Not yet. Peter just smiled up at him and asked, "So, where do you want to go? I know you like Mexican. Anything else tickle your taste buds?"

{I wish _you_ would tickle our taste buds…}

Wade shrugged. "I'll eat pretty much anything. Like, literally, I've eaten dog before. And horse. And snake. Um… And I think once I tried scorpion. That was cool. What do you like?"

Peter shook his head, with a clever little smirk. "I eat pretty much anything, too. Although I must say I've never eaten scorpion." They pushed through the front doors of the nursing home and Wade pulled up his hood so it shaded his eyes. Peter dropped a skateboard to the ground and stepped onto it, coasting easily beside Wade.

{Where the fuck did that come from?}

[You were too busy staring at his fuck-me eyes to notice. He had it the whole time, idiot.]

{Ohmygod he's too cute…}

"How about pizza?" Peter asked.

Wade grinned. "I love pizza."

"Well, who doesn't? That's what I wanna know."

"Only really, really sick people. The people who hate puppies and ice-cream and laugh when kittens get stuck in trees."

Peter laughed. Wade felt happier than he had in days. Well, except for when he was with Spidey.

They went to Peter's favorite pizza place: a hole-in-the-wall with peperoni and homemade tomato sauce that Wade would literally kill for. Wade slipped the cashier a hundred before Peter could get his wallet out, and any complaints that the boy made fell on deaf ears. Peter sat across from Wade while they ate, but it didn't even seem to affect his appetite. In fact, he kept up with such witty conversation that Wade almost forgot he wasn't wearing his mask. It was the nicest meal he'd had in a long time. He and Spidey grabbed tacos sometimes when there was a lull in crime, and that was nice. Of course it was. But Wade always made sure that he sat somewhere Spidey couldn't see his face. And as great as his conversations with Spider-Man were (and they really really were), it felt nice to be able to see the other person's eyes while they talked, and see their smile when they laughed, rather than just guess at what it looked like beneath the mask.

Even the boxes were kept mostly entertained while they ate and talked. When they finally finished, having devoured an entire extra-large pizza together, Wade was surprised to glance at the clock and see that it was already eight o'clock.

"It's a school night, right? You need to go home and do homework or some shit like that?"

Peter chuckled gently and shook his head. "Nah… I did all my homework yesterday." When Wade gave him an incredulous look, Peter just shrugged and pointed to himself. "Nerd, remember?"

Wade grinned. "Right." Before he could stop himself or think through the stupidity of this idea, he asked, "Wanna come over to my place and play videogames for a while?"

[Oh no… You did _not_ just ask out a high schooler.]

{Aaaaaaah Peter's gonna come over! He's gonna see our apartment! MAYBE HE'LL SEE OUR BED!}

[I wouldn't count on it. Besides, our place is a mess. Do we really want him to see that?]

Wade was mortified by his own suggestion, but Peter seemed to like it, if his bright smile was anything to go by. "I'd love to." He said.

Wade thought that maybe this kid had been dropped on his head one too many times as a baby.

But he wasn't about to pass up some prime hangout time with his only normal friend (if that's what they were), so he took Peter home with him. They chatted easily on the subway ride there. And when a couple of teenage girls caught sight of Wade's face and moved to different seats, Peter pretended not to notice. He just kept talking as if nothing had happened, nearly succeeding in distracting Wade entirely. He couldn't help but think of how Peter, sweet young Peter, had hit that dickwad at the bar when he'd insulted Wade. He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around it, but it left Wade with a confusingly warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Wade had moved again, closer to where he and Spidey met almost every night, coincidentally.

[It wasn't a coincidence.] White's tone was scathing.

{Shut the fuck up already. We all know you secretly love him, too.}

So it was only a five-minute walk from the subway station, and this area wasn't nearly as sketchy as most of his safe houses were. He was glad for that, because he didn't want to take Peter anywhere unsafe. When they finally climbed the stairs in Wade's building and stopped outside his door, Wade was starting to get nervous.

[Why did you think this was a good idea? He's gonna think we're slobs.]

{He might run away and never come back.}

[Did you even remember to hide all your weapons? What do you expect he'll think if he sees our sniper rifle sitting on the kitchen counter?]

{Or our favorite pistol on the table beside our favorite chair?}

Wade bit down on his bottom lip as he hesitated, key in his hand. "Um… Could you, just, give me one minute before you come in? Sorry."

Peter nodded. "Sure. No problem."

Wade offered him an apologetic smile before unlocking the door and slipping in, pulling it shut right behind him so Peter wouldn't get a peak inside.

"Fuck fuck fuck." He cursed as he dashed into the kitchen, gathering up old take-out containers and dumping them in the trashcan without a bag. He shoved all of the dirty dishes into the sink, because that looked better than having them spread out over the whole counter. He grabbed a few knives from the couch (those would've hurt to sit on) and tossed them in his bedroom before slamming that door shut.

{Aw, he's not gonna come to our bed?}

"Of course not. Jesus Christ. He's a teenage boy. We're just playing videogames."

[You keep telling yourself that…]

Wade kicked a pile of dirty clothes into a corner, made sure that his Deadpool suit wasn't there, and flung a blanket over his armchair so the bloodstains wouldn't be visible. He glanced around frantically. The movies and videogames were still a mess, and the place wasn't exactly spotless, but it would have to do.

Wade returned to the door and opened it for Peter. "Sorry about that. I had my, um… Underwear sitting out."

[Smooth.]

Peter just smiled. The kid smiled a lot. "No problem." He stepped in and glanced around with a curious look in his big brown eyes.

Wade glanced around, too, checking if he'd missed anything important. No guns, no knives, no visible bloodstains… He watched Peter move over to the fridge and stare at the pictures taped there with Hello Kitty tape.

Oh… yeah.

{That's embarrassing.}

Peter was looking at the drawings Wade had made of he and Spider-Man. Well, of Deadpool and Spider-Man. They were done in crayon and were admittedly not very good. Hopefully Peter would just assume that some kid Wade knew had drawn them. That was his story, anyway, and he was sticking to it.

But when Peter turned back to Wade, he didn't look confused or amused. He looked… kind of touched. Wade swallowed uncomfortably. "So, um… I've got pretty much all the classics. Halo, Grand Theft Auto, Mario Cart, Sonic the-"

Peter cut him off with a grin. "Mario Cart. I'm a fucking boss at Mario Cart."

Wade raised his eyebrows. "Wait. You don't think you can beat _me_ , do you? Because I am the fucking world champion."

Peter's grin turned sly. "You're on, Wade Wilson."

They flung themselves down on the couch and Wade turned on the game. He picked Princess Peach and Peter picked Mario. It was a tight competition, and the trash talk was on point. Wade won the first tournament, just barely, but Peter won the second. As they played through a third round, Wade noticed that they had moved closer together on the couch. Peter's right arm was pressed against his left, his thigh brushing against Wade's. After that it was harder to focus on the game, and Peter pulled ahead for a final victory.

"In your face, Wade! Now you must admit that I am the superior racer."

Wade jostled the kid with his shoulder. "I call foul. I think Princess Peach was distracted because she has a crush on Mario."

Peter went still, and Wade did too, realizing his mistake a second too late.

[Now you've done it…]

Wade swallowed, his heart sinking as he realized that Peter would probably be scared off now. Because having some older deformed guy basically confess he has a crush on you? That wasn't hot. That was creepy as fuck. Like, Phantom of the Opera creepy.

{Quasimodo creepy.}

But Peter continued on a moment later as if nothing had happened, stunning Wade yet again. "Want to have a rematch?" Peter asked.

[There's definitely something wrong with him.]

{Shut up he's perfect!}

Wade did. He really did want to keep playing videogames, continue having the only normal human interaction he'd had in weeks. But when he glanced at the clock, his heart skipped a beat.

"Oh, shit." Peter looked up at him, suddenly concerned. Wade shook his head. "It's just, um… It's late."

Peter looked at the clock, too. "It's only ten thirty."

"And it's a school night. So you should be getting to bed, right?"

Peter looked back at him, and his eyes were full of hurt and confusion. Wade felt his heart breaking just a little bit. "No no no… I mean, I'm not trying to get rid of you. This has been fun. Like, really fun. It's just… Um, I kind of have to meet someone soon."

Peter's confusion cleared into understanding. "Oh… Right. Okay. Well, I'll just… I'll go home then."

They both stood up, Peter grabbed his skateboard and Wade shoved his hands in his pockets, unable to stop himself from feeling guilty. "Sorry." He said as he walked Peter to the door.

Peter just shrugged. "No problem. I, um… I had fun to." He paused beside the door and scuffed the toe of one shoe against the ground, looking down. Wade thought he was probably the cutest thing since kittens were invented. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

Wade nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely. For sure. Just text me anytime, Pete."

"Okay." Peter offered him a small smile, and Wade placed one hand gently on his back as he opened the door and guided Peter out.

"You okay to get home on your own?" Peter nodded, shifting his board from one hand to the other. "Great. I'll see you later then." He watched Peter walk down the hall before shutting his door and dashing to his bedroom to change into his suit.

{That was rude.}

"What?" Wade stripped in a hurry and hopped on one foot as he tried to pull the suit on one leg at a time.

{Kicking Petey out like that. He looked sad.}

Wade frowned. "He was fine. I explained that I had to meet someone. He understood."

[You're very good at hurting people, Wade.]

Wade paused, staring down at the Deadpool mask he now held in his hands. "Yeah… I know." He pulled it on with a sigh and moved to his window to go meet Spider-Man.

Spidey was quiet that night. But then again, so was Deadpool. He was thinking about Peter. Which was strange, because usually Spidey commanded his undivided attention. But they stopped two robberies and an attempted rape and Spider-Man told him he was doing a good job, so overall it was a good night.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Three nights later, they were out again. They really had quite a rhythm now, fighting together and rounding up the bad guys with maximum efficiency. Deadpool would distract the criminals from the ground, then Spider-Man would drop in from above, webbing them up before they knew what was happening. Deadpool handled the runners, which he thoroughly enjoyed.

[But still no killing or maiming… You're going soft, Deadpool.]

Whatever. He and Spidey had it going on. They even had a rapport going with witty comments and jokes at the bad guys' expense. It was fucking awesome. The most fun Wade had had in a _long_ time.

[We should be focused. Focused on figuring out what to do about our Oscorp problem.]

{We should just go in guns blazing and _kill them all_.}

"I think it'll require a little more finesse than that." Wade muttered. He saw Spidey glance at him from across the roof, but the arachnid hero didn't ask what he was talking about. Wade appreciated that Spidey wasn't always asking about the conversations going on in his head. It would be hard to explain, not to mention embarrassing as fuck. Still, he started humming a tune and pretending that he hadn't just been talking to himself.

{My anaconda don't want none unless you've got buns, hun.} Yellow started singing, and soon Wade was tapping his foot along with the beat. {Oh, baby. I want to get wit'cha, and take your picture.}

"My homeboys tried to warn me." Wade swung his hips back and forth and waved a finger in front of him, dancing to the tune. "But with that butt you got makes me so horny!"

Spidey walked back towards him from where he'd been trying to listen for crimes, planting his hands on his hips as he came closer. "What the hell are you singing?"

Wade gasped, his hands flying to his cheeks in faux shock. "You don't know Baby Got Back?" Spidey shook his head. "Oh, baby… You should know it. _You_ got back."

Spidey tipped his head slightly to one side. "Are you trying to say I have a big ass?"

Wade shook his head emphatically. "No no no… Just a _perfect_ ass. The most perfect ass in the whole fucking universe." He made as if the slap that perfect ass, but Spidey slid out of reach as easily as a cat dodges the clumsy grabs of a toddler.

[I think that's a bit of an exaggeration. There are tons of asses out there.]

{NO IT'S NOT. THIS ONE IS THE MOST PERFECT.}

Spidey shook his head, but Wade could tell he was amused. "Whatever you say, Pool."

Wade grinned beneath his mask. "Ooh, that's a dangerous thing to promise, Spidey-babe. I have a _lot_ to say. Have I ever told you my opinions on baby sea turtles? Because those little fuckers are-"

Spidey cut him off suddenly, pressing one warm palm to the middle of his chest. Wade froze, watching as Spider-Man listened intently to something.

After a few seconds, he let his hand fall away. "Brooklyn Bridge." Was all he said, voice tight with something between anger and anxiety. "I can't wait. Just meet me there."

And then he was gone, taking a running leap off the roof and disappearing into the night.

"Fuck." Wade cursed. He didn't wait more than a second before following, jumping across an alley to the next building, going over routes in his head to figure out the fastest way to get to the Brooklyn Bridge.

{What do you think it is? Aliens?}

[Terrorists?]

{That's boring.} Yellow gasped. {Godzilla?}

"Shut up. I need to focus." Wade ended up taking the subway, as lame as that was. It was the best he could do on short notice. He would have stolen a car, but traffic heading to the bridge at this time of night was a real bitch and he probably would have been better off running the whole way.

So he took the subway and he stood next to a giant group of Asian tourists. All of them stared at him for a good five minutes before asking him to take a picture with them. He did. Because why not? And ten minutes later he was getting off just a couple blocks from the bridge. He ran there, heart pounding as he considered what he might find.

He had to remind himself that Spider-Man couldn't get hurt. He was too strong, and too good at what he did. Plus, if anything drastic _did_ happen, the iron dick would come save him, right? Even though he hated the guy, Wade found himself hoping that was the case.

But Spidey wouldn't be hurt. There had only been one person who had ever succeeded in hurting his favorite hero, and he…

Fuck. He was zipping over the bridge at dizzying speeds, dropping smoke bombs on the lines of stopped cars below him.

Police had cordoned off both ends of the bridge, and at this point it did look like most of the cars stuck on the bridge were abandoned. Wade glanced around desperately for a flash of red and blue, his heart in his throat.

{Oh no oh no oh no oh no where's Spidey?}

[There! He's there. On the right.]

Sure enough, Spider-Man was still kicking, swinging around the massive cables of the bridge to slam into Green Goblin's side, almost knocking him from his hover sled.

"He seems okay, right?" Wade breathed, taking a running leap and flipping over the top of a police car to get onto the bridge.

{Yeah, he does. He seems good.}

Spidey was shooting webs from the top of the bridge now, covering parts of Green Goblin and his sled, but not allowing the webs to stay connected to him. He'd learned from what happened last time.

Wade wove through the stopped cars to get closer, drawing two guns from his belt. He was taking aim at the goblin, tracking him through the air and feeling out the timing when Spidey landed on the top of a car beside him with a loud thump. Wade jumped.

"Jesus fuck, Spidey! Give a guy some warning."

"No killing." Spider-Man said firmly, sounding a little out of breath.

"But-"

"No." He seemed to give Wade a very pointed look. "The same rules apply."

Wade frowned, but he tucked his guns away as Spidey shot another web and took off, going to meet the Green Goblin in the air once again. Wade watched, feeling vaguely sick, as the goblin threw blade after blade at Spider-Man, and Spidey dodged each one with preternatural grace.

Wade couldn't do a fucking thing from down here.

Thankfully, Spidey seemed to be doing better this time. He shot one particularly well-aimed web at one of the hovercraft's turbojets, clogging it. It practically exploded, blowing out with a rush of flame and smoke, and the goblin suddenly couldn't fly straight. Spidey swung around the green asshole, beginning to web him up, but Green Goblin dropped several yards all at once and sped out towards the river, wobbling on his sled.

"Fuck." Wade cursed, watching the goblin pass through the bridge cables and escape out over the open water. Spidey couldn't follow him without anything to swing from, and soon the Green Goblin had disappeared from sight.

A moment later, Spidey landed at his side. Wade turned to look at him, and let out a shocked gasp. "You're bleeding!" He grabbed Spidey's arm and pulled it to him, examining the thin, shallow cut across his bicep.

Spider-Man jerked his arm away. "I'm fine." He snapped. Wade stared, shocked by the venom in his hero's usually kind and pleasant voice. Spidey let out a heavy sigh, looking down for a moment. "Sorry." He still sounded tense, but Wade relaxed, understanding that the anger hadn't been directed at him.

"It's fine." He said gently. He could see the cops starting to approach them from his periphery, so he took a step closer to Spidey. "We should go." He told him.

Spidey nodded, and they headed for the edge of the bridge. They climbed up and walked along the ledge, out of the reach of the police, until they had dropped back down on the other side. He followed Spidey into the city, where they wove between buildings and turned around sharp corners to lose anyone that might be following them from the big scene they had left behind.

Wade wasn't sure where exactly they were going. Spidey seemed a little lost in his thoughts, and Wade couldn't even tell if he planned on stopping more crime tonight; the encounter with that nasty green guy must have shaken him up.

{We should have killed him…}

[It's not our business. We're not fucking heroes.]

{But he _hurt_ our Spidey!}

"Hush. Spidey-boy did fine this time." Wade muttered under his breath as he followed Spider-Man across a rooftop. He wanted to pull the hero from his thoughts, ask if he was okay, but he was selfish. He didn't want the night to end any earlier than it had to, so he held his tongue.

Spidey stopped at the edge of the roof and stood staring down. Wade stepped up onto the ledge beside him. "Thinking of jumping?" He joked.

Spidey just shook his head, but Wade could imagine that he saw the edges of a smile beneath that inscrutable mask. "Fire escape." The spider pointed out plainly. "You go first."

Wade glanced over the edge, looking at the caged ladder that led straight down to the ground. "Aw, are you holding back for little old me? You can just jump down if you want to. Or crawl. Web. Whatever your little spider heart desires. I can jump too! I mean, I'll probably break my legs. But those heal in like, five minutes. No biggie."

{Remember when we jumped off the Empire State Building? That was fun.}

Spidey shook his head again, and this time Wade was sure the kid was grinning. "No way, Jose. Now get your ass down there."

Wade smirked. "I love it when you talk about my ass, Spidey-babe." He dodged the retaliatory strike at his arm and swung himself easily down onto the ladder.

He started descending, quick and efficient, and the rungs felt thin beneath his large gloved hands. Once he was a few feet down, Spider-Man swung over the edge and started down, too.

And oh. My. Gods.

Yellow squealed. Loudly. {Aaaaaaaah look at that fine spider ass!}

Wade did. He couldn't help it. He stared up at the greatest fucking view in the world. He stared so hard he almost fell off the ladder when his foot went off one of the rungs.

If his head wasn't full of the sound of Yellow making obscene noises, he would have thought that Spidey laughed. But that seemed improbable.

[Could that spandex _get_ any tighter?]

It was a long journey down to the ground, but not nearly long enough. Even white was paying attention to that beautiful example of perfect physical form.

{Jesus fuck. Can you imagine all the things we could _do_ with that ass?}

[ _To_ that ass…]

"I'd rather not." Wade muttered, dropping the last few feet through empty air and landing lightly on the pavement of the alley. He didn't exactly want to develop a problem right now (and he could not hide a _thing_ in this suit).

He stepped back slightly to give Spidey room to drop down in front of him. When he did, Wade leaned in, crowding him against the wall as he placed his hands on the brick, one on either side of Spidey's shoulders.

"That was quite the show, little spider." He teased lightly, chest and stomach pressing up against Spidey's back. He expected Spider-Man to brush him off like he usually did, push him away or duck under his arm with a laugh and a shake of the head, maybe a clever comment in return. The same had happened a couple dozen times over the last two weeks.

Only… He didn't.

A couple of seconds passed and Wade tensed slightly, his skin tingling with warning as Spidey's strange stillness set him on edge.

"Spidey?" He asked, voice tight with confusion.

Another moment passed, suspended in the cool night air, and then Spider-Man moved.

He leaned forward slightly, head bowing in something like submission, and his hands came up to press against the wall, framed by Wade's. He made a small, helpless sound, something between a whine and a sigh, and he _pushed his hips back_.

Back into Wade's.

Wade's heart stopped.

"Oh." He inhaled sharply, senses flooding with static as his blood rushed to the surface, heat flashing through his entire body. "Oh, Spidey…"

The boxes must have been stunned into silence. They must have been, because Wade's head was empty as he pressed forward just slightly, gingerly bringing the front of his body fully flush against the back of Spidey's.

And Spider-Man shuddered. And pressed back.

And _fuck_ when did Wade get so hard so fast? Because it was undeniable now. He was pressed against the top of Spider-Man's perfect ass and _fuck_. He couldn't think.

"Oh, Baby Boy…" He tipped his head forward, curling around the young hero's body until his face was pressed into his shoulder, mask and suit the only layers between them. And Spidey smelled sweet. Like laundry detergent and burnt sugar body wash.

And when he made that sound again, a helpless, needy whine, Wade thought he would lose his fucking mind.

He removed one hand from the wall and found his fingers pressed against the flat, hard planes of Spidey's stomach. He hadn't made the conscious decision to move them there. And Spider-Man pressed back, again, and Wade choked on an uncontrollable moan.

[Oh god…] White's voice was thick with desire and disbelief. [This can't really be happening…]

{Shut up shut up shut up!}

They went silent, blissfully silent once again, and Wade found his hand sliding down, fingers curling over one sharp hipbone. And Spidey was panting. Sharp, hot breaths that weren't muffled at all by the damp fabric of his mask.

Wade sucked in air, unaware that he'd been holding his breath, and that sweet scent overwhelmed him like a drug. And then his hand was slipping further down, fire tearing through his veins when he felt how fucking _hard_ Spidey was.

And then the boy jerked forward into Wade's hand with a jagged gasp, and Wade's hips snapped forward as well, his responding moan muffled in the juncture of Spidey's neck and shoulder.

They both froze for a moment, Wade's heart pounding frantically against his ribs, and it was almost like they were waiting for the spell to break.

But it didn't.

They both started moving at the same time. Spidey tipped his head back, breath heavier than ever as it came to rest against Wade's shoulder. And Wade pressed forward, pushing Spidey against the bricks as his other hand lifted away from the wall so that arm could wrap around the hero's chest, holding him closer.

He kept his hand over the rigid line of Spider-Man's cock, whimpering slightly when he could feel it jerk against his palm.

And then he was thrusting forward, unable to abort the frantic, shallow ruts as Spidey pushed back against him, meeting him every time, driving Wade _fucking insane_.

He was awash in thick, syrupy pleasure, unable to think, unable to stop. Spider-Man had him burning up like a virgin, and he was sure that he was going to end up coming in his suit like a fucking teenager in heat.

He couldn't bring himself to care.

Spidey was making these quiet, desperate sounds that went straight to Wade's dick. They were utterly pornographic. And when Wade started squeezing him gently in time to his uneven thrusts, Spider-Man stopped breathing.

Wade nuzzled into his neck, the fabric of his mask damp against his open mouth. "Breathe, Baby Boy." He urged breathlessly, feeling Spidey's hips stutter against his as he kept up his previous pace. "Breathe."

Spider-Man sucked in a ragged breath, his whole body shuddering under Wade's. And then his hips snapped forward, and Wade felt his cock jump against his palm. Spidey came with a low, muffled moan crawling up from behind clenched teeth.

"Oh, fuck…" Wade's hips ground forward, and he could feel the heat twisting harshly in his stomach. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…" He sucked in a breath and bit down on Spidey's shoulder, hard enough to leave imprints through mask and suit, and then he was tipping over the edge.

It was kind of like dying. Only instead of being washed over in darkness, he was drowning in white-hot bliss.

It lasted a few perfect seconds, Wades hips bucking uncontrollably as he rode it out, and then he was coming down, dick twitching with the aftershocks and the results of their tryst already cooling uncomfortably inside his suit. Wade unclamped his teeth from Spidey's shoulder and slid his hands down to grip loosely at the hero's hips. "Fuck, Spidey." He breathed, heart still racing a mile a minute.

They stood like that for a few moments, Spidey's head still resting on his shoulder, both panting gently as they recovered. Spider-Man came back to his senses first, straightening up and removing his hands from the wall (where Wade could see some of the brick had started to crumble). Wade stood up straight too and let his hands fall away when Spidey stepped to the side, slipping out from between Deadpool and the wall.

"Are you-" Wade didn't get to finish. Without pausing, without looking at him, Spider-Man shot a web and swung away, rounding the corner and disappearing from sight before Wade could blink.

Wade just stared, mind blank. Chest aching.

[What. The _fuck_ just happened?]

{Oh my god. I can't…. How…? I can't even… Was that real life?}

[He left.]

{Holy fucking shit. Did that really just happen? Did we really just rub one out with fucking Spider-Man?}

[He just left us.]

{Shit shit fuck fuck fuck. That was Spidey. Spider-Man. Our Baby Boy.}

[He's gone.]

"Shut up." Wade's voice was a hoarse croak, sounding as utterly torn up as he felt.

There was silence for a moment.

{Wait… He left?}

[We fucked it up. We really fucked it up.] Pain bled through the cracks in White's voice, as unexpected as blood from a stone.

{You think we scared him away?}

[He's gone, Yellow. Gone. Why can't you get that through your thick fucking skull?]

{But…}

"Shut up!" Wade yelled, sudden and harsh, and his knuckles splintered when they connected with the wall. The pain was dull and aching. It didn't compare. "Just… shut up."

For once, the boxes listened.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
Pretty Piece Of Flesh - One Inch Punch  
Lyrics:  
If We Were a Movie - Hannah Montana  
The Sweet Escape - Gwen Stefani  
Baby Got Back - Sir Mix-A-Lot

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	9. Stay Weightless, Formless, Blameless

**Peter**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Oh fuck." Peter landed hard on the wall outside his window and stuck there for a few moments, breathing hard and cursing under his breath. "Shit fuck oh my god oh my god oh my god."

What had he done. What the _fuck_ had he done?

He hadn't meant to… To do _that_. And now Wade…

"Oh fuck, Wade…"

Peter took three long, shuddering breaths, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing back the burning in his throat. He reached carefully for his window and slid it open as gently as he could, slipping inside the bedroom feet first and landing silently on the hardwood floor. He froze, holding his breath and waiting to hear if he had woken Aunt May. The apartment was silent. His breath rattled loudly through his mask when he let it out, turning to slip the window shut again. His hands were shaking.

"Holy fuck…" He breathed, tearing his mask off and tossing it onto his desk, running both hands anxiously through his tangled hair. God, he could only imagine what Wade must be thinking right now… He sank down onto his bed, only to jump back up an instant later, hissing in discomfort at the way his suit clung to the inside of his thighs, still shamefully wet.

He peeled off the top first, then the bottoms, cringing as the mess inside peeled away from his skin. He kicked the suit under his bed and made a mental note to do laundry after school tomorrow. He stood in the middle of his room, still breathing hard, and tried to make sense of the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings battering at his mind.

How had that _happened_? Peter should have just pushed Deadpool away like he always did. Should have laughed it off and said goodnight and gone home and thought about what Wade's lips might feel like on his skin as he fell asleep, like he had since Sunday when he'd gone over to Wade's to hang out and he'd just felt so good, so comfortable and _safe_. Just sitting there, playing Mario Cart and trading insults as quickly as they could roll off their tongues, and Peter had wanted to curl up against Wade's side and press close until the older man lifted his big, warm arm and wrapped it around him, made him feel as safe and warm as he had the night he rescued Peter from the bar.

But Wade was constantly pulling away. Always hesitant, always distancing himself. And _Deadpool_ … Deadpool was constantly trying to get closer. Always reaching for him, taking any excuse to get his arms around the young hero, forever teasing him with comment after comment about his ass and his body and the way he _looked_ at Spider-Man… God. Even through the mask, Peter could tell the way he was looking at him. And it made him feel… It made him feel powerful. Powerful and sexy and _dangerous_.

And when Deadpool had pushed him up against that wall, leaned in and said those words, in that _voice_ … He couldn't… He couldn't stop himself. He knew how Wade felt. Even if he hadn't been able to admit it to himself, hadn't allowed himself to think about it, he _knew_. And so he knew that when he gave in to Deadpool's advances, when he finally allowed himself to press close to that massive body that he'd been silently eye fucking for weeks, Wade wouldn't be able to resist him.

Ever since that first night that they met, just over a month ago, Wade hadn't been able to deny Spider-Man _anything_. And Peter knew it.

He was a terrible, terrible person.

Peter choked on a groan of frustration, pressing his fists into his eyes for a moment. He let his hands fall away and glared venomously at his bed. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to sleep tonight. He was way, _way_ too keyed up for that. So he snatched up his pajama pants and pulled them on before easing his door open as quietly as he could. He slipped out and padded down the hallway to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him once he was tucked away inside. He turned on the lights and reached for the shower faucet, turning the handles until a sharp hiss filled the small room and cold water sputtered from the showerhead.

He didn't wait for it to warm up before slipping off his pants and pulling the plastic curtain back to step in. He hissed as the water hit his bare skin, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the painful sensation. He didn't deserve to feel good after taking what he had from Deadpool, so carelessly disregarding how he knew it would make Wade feel. So he crossed his arms over his chest and shuddered as the cold soaked into him, not moving again until the water temperature had started to inch towards warm.

He grabbed the soap, some sugary flavor Aunt May had gotten in a gift basket at the nursing home, and squeezed some out onto his worn washcloth. He went to work viciously scrubbing every inch of his body, wincing as the rough cloth scraped over the half-closed cut on his arm. He took a second to examine it before dismissing it as no big deal. It would be closed enough by tomorrow not to bleed through his shirt, so he wouldn't even need a bandage. It was just a reminder of his failure and weakness, his inability to keep his city safe.

The Green Goblin was too fast. Too strong.

Peter clenched his teeth and poured shampoo into his hand, then began rubbing it into his hair. He tugged his fingers through thick locks that had matted together under his mask, making sure to pull hard enough that it hurt. If he focused on the physical discomfort, then he wouldn't have to think about how royally he'd fucked up tonight.

But once he'd finished, the last of the suds washing down the drain and wet hair sticking to his forehead, the water had grown quite hot. Against his will, Peter relaxed into the heat with a heavy sigh, his muscles slowly releasing from the extreme tension of the night. His eyes slid shut and he braced one hand against wall as he leaned into the water, the cool tile beneath his palm centering him, allowing him to relax even further.

And suddenly he was thinking about Wade. About how he'd felt pressed up against him, about his _hands_ … And that feeling. That urgent, all-consuming heat that had washed over him like the ocean, pulling him down so deep that he couldn't fight the current, didn't _want_ to. Wade had felt so good, so damn good when he touched him like that, used him like that, and Peter couldn't have stopped even if he'd wanted to. And the way Wade had reacted to him… Those words, in that voice, so much deeper than his normal teasing tone… The half-crazed moan he'd pulled out of the mercenary…

Peter gasped, and shuddered, his free coming to wrap around his cock, already achingly hard. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but it was like before. Even as guilt warred with lust in his stomach, he couldn't stop. He just couldn't. His hand slid up his length, thumb sliding over the head and he bit down on his bottom lip, swallowing a whimper as he thought about Wade's palm pressed tight against him.

He slid his hand down, fingers tightening around the base before pulling up again, and he thought about how Wade felt, so big and so fucking hard, pressing into him, thrusting shallowly, desperately… And then Peter was panting again, hand jerking quickly over his length as the heat built, washing over him, pulling him down, and jerking off had never quite felt this good before. And so quickly, too quickly, he was nearing the edge.

He remembered Wade's teeth sinking into his shoulder, that hot, wet, filthy sound soaking into his skin, and Peter shook, his knees going weak as he came, hard. "Ah…" He cried out softly. He tried to choke the sound back, turning his head to muffle it in his raised arm, but wasn't entirely able to. He stood gasping, fingers uncurling from around his softening length to rinse his knuckles off under the water. "Fuck…" He breathed, trying to stay in the afterglow of his tension-melting orgasm and not immediately think about how wrong it was that he just used that memory to jerk off. He hadn't been able to help himself.

A soft knock on the door startled Peter so much that he jumped, shoulder brushing the cold tile behind him. He swallowed against the sudden panic in his throat so he could speak. "Y-Yeah?"

"Peter?" Aunt May sounded concerned and confused, her voice still thick with sleep. "What in the world are you doing up at this time of night?"

Peter took a deep breath and tried to force his racing heart to slow to a normal human pace. "Just, um… Just taking a shower." He rubbed his hands over his face and through his dripping hair. "I, uh, I had a nightmare. Couldn't sleep."

There was a moment of silence before Aunt May spoke through the door again, sounding more relaxed, but still a little concerned. "Alright. Try to get back to sleep, okay? You have to get up for school in three hours."

"Okay, Aunt May. I will." He listened carefully as she moved away, following her footsteps back down the hall until he heard her door click shut once more. He let out a heavy sigh, reaching for the faucet and twisting until the water turned off. He toweled himself dry slowly, stalling as long as he could before he had to return to his room and climb into bed. When he did, he lay awake staring at the ceiling until the dim glow of early morning began to filter in through his window.

He couldn't figure out what the _hell_ he was going to do.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter finally did manage to fall asleep. And about ten minutes later, his alarm was going off. He snoozed for another twenty minutes before he knew he had to get his ass out of bed or he was going to miss first period. He felt more exhausted when he got up than when he'd fallen asleep, and that was a really shitty feeling, albeit one that Peter was quickly becoming intimately acquainted with.

He made it out of the apartment and onto the subway, all the way to school, feeling like a zombie the entire time. When he walked into first period just before the bell, MJ raised both her eyebrows as soon as she caught sight of him.

"What the hell happened to you? You look like the walking dead."

"I feel like it." Peter groaned, sliding into his seat and almost immediately dropping his head down onto the surface of the desk. It was cold beneath his cheek, but still felt like heaven compared to holding his head up, so he let his eyes slip closed.

MJ poked him in the side, and Peter just grunted irritably. Class was starting, so he lingered on the desk for just a few seconds more before forcing himself upright once again. He managed not to fall out of his chair or lay his head down again for the rest of class, but he was desperately battling to keep his eyes open the entire fifty minutes. The one pleasant side effect of his complete and utter exhaustion was that he didn't have the energy or mental capacity to stress about Wade.

When class finally ended, Peter having been caught by surprise by the sudden shrill bell and shuffling of people around him as students gathered their things to leave, MJ was tugging on his sleeve. "Seriously, Peter. Did you sleep at _all_ last night?"

Peter shrugged, his mouth setting into a grim line as he forced his sore and tired body up onto his feet, slinging his backpack (which he hadn't opened all class) onto his shoulder so they could leave. "Maybe a little." He mumbled. "Bad dreams. Couldn't sleep."

MJ nodded sympathetically, her fingers curling around his wrist for a moment as they slipped out into the hallway. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Before Peter could answer, a loud screech of feedback from the school speakers sounded out over the crowd of students, making him flinch. The secretary for the main office began to speak then, sounding more nervous than he'd ever heard her before. "Attention please. Will Mr. Peter Parker please report to the principle's office? Peter Parker, please report to the principles office."

Peter froze, staring around in confusion, his sleep-deprived brain slow to respond.

MJ shook his wrist. "Peter!" He looked at her. "Did you do something?" He shook his head slowly. Had he? No… No, he hadn't done anything that the school could have found out about. MJ was frowning, her green eyes full of concern. "You should go." She gave his wrist another squeeze before releasing him. "If you haven't done anything wrong, then you have nothing to worry about." She attempted a smile. "Maybe you're getting an award or something."

Peter forced himself to smile back and say, "Maybe" before he turned and started walking towards the front offices. He had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't going to be good news, whatever it was. He was almost there when a short tingle of warning shot down his spine, just before Flash slammed into him, hard, knocking him into some other students.

Peter regained his balance, and Flash sneered down at him when their gazes met. "Have fun in the principle's office, _Penis Parker_." Peter just rolled his eyes, too tired to deal with Flash's bullshit and unoriginal insults. He briefly remembered Wade telling him to punch the bully in the balls, and a smile flickered across his mouth as he watched Flash disappear down the hallway. It wouldn't happen, but it _was_ a nice thought.

He waited until the halls had mostly cleared before letting himself into the office suite's reception area and coming to stand nervously by the secretary's desk. She smiled kindly at him, but there was a slightly manic gleam to her eyes and she was tapping her pen against the edge of her desk with more than a little agitation. "Good morning, Peter. Please take a seat. I'll just… I'll let them know you're here." She reached for her phone and started dialing.

Peter nodded and turned to make his way to one of the comfortable armchairs sitting in the lobby. He sighed as he sunk in to one, not bothering to take his backpack off. He was still utterly in the dark about what the hell this could be about. He really couldn't think of any reason that he might be in trouble.

He didn't have to wait long. Less than twenty seconds later, Tony Stark himself was striding out of the principle's office, immediately dominating the entire room with his confident gate, expensively tailored suit, and designer sunglasses. Peter leapt to his feet, his peripheral gaze catching the secretary doing the same as she caught sight of the billionaire.

"M-Mr. Stark!" Principle Johnson came bursting out of the office behind him, clearly flustered by Tony's exit. "You're welcome to use my office. O-Or any of our offices here."

Tony just waved the man off, giving him no more than a flick of his Rolex-clad wrist. "Nonsense. We'll be fine, thank you Mr. Jackson. Hey there, Peter."

Peter swallowed hard, suddenly feeling much more awake as nervous adrenalin poured into his veins. "Mr. Stark." He greeted the man cautiously. Shit shit shit. This couldn't be anything good.

Tony stuck out his hand for Peter to shake, and he did so, more out of surprise than anything else. "Congratulations, Mr. Parker. I'm here to talk to you about a fantastic internship opportunity at the one and only Stark Industries." Peter felt his mouth drop open in confusion. Tony clicked his tongue lightly and winked, the movement almost imperceptible behind his sunglasses.

Peter snapped his mouth shut. "Oh, um… Wow, that's, uh, that's amazing." He stated lamely, realizing that he should be pretending that he was more surprised and excited about this.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I would say that it is. How about we take a little walk and talk about it, hm?" Peter swallowed anxiously, but nodded. Tony was already striding quickly towards the door, leaving Peter to follow behind him.

Principle Johnson called after them, and his voice had a slightly desperate edge to it. "Mr. Stark! You're welcome to use any space you'd like here in the building! Really, it's no trouble!"

Tony barely paused on his way out the door, speaking over his shoulder without looking back. "No need, Mr. Jackson, we'll be fine."

Peter followed Iron Man towards the front doors, his stomach twisting into knots. He held his tongue, wanting to see why Mr. Stark was here before he started making excuses for himself. They pushed through the front doors and stepped out into the sunlight, Peter squinting slightly in the sudden brightness.

"Jesus, it's hot as balls out here." Tony raised one hand to tap lightly at a bluetooth device nestled easily in his ear; Peter hadn't even noticed it. "Turn on the air in the car, Friday. We're coming to sit for a while."

Peter frowned slightly, shoving his hands into his pockets as his discomfort increased. "You're not here to talk to me about an internship, are you?" He asked wryly.

Tony glanced sideways at him as they walked towards the parking lot, where Mr. Stark's ostentatious town car was sitting right in the middle of the fire lane. "I could be. You wanna work for me, kid? That could be arranged, you know."

Peter stared up at him in disbelief. "You're not serious." He stated flatly.

Tony just shrugged. "Could be if that's what you wanted. It's my company. I can pretty much do whatever the fuck I want."

Peter resisted the urge to frown, settling instead for just shaking his head. "No. I already have an internship." He'd been working at Oscorp for almost a year now; it wouldn't be fair for him to just up and leave for something better. If it even _would_ be better. Mr. Stark might just have him getting coffee and cleaning labs or something like that.

Tony barked out a short laugh. "Yeah, right. Working for the competition. You're too good for them, Peter. I oughtta try to buy you off before you start putting a dent in my revenue."

Peter could hear the good-natured tone beneath Tony's complaints, so he just smiled and shook his head again as a discretely dressed man appeared out of nowhere to open the car door for them. He was either a driver or a bodyguard. Maybe both. It didn't matter. Peter slid inside, settling onto the comfortable leather seats as Tony followed him in. The door was shut once again, and the man stationed outside.

"Friday, turn on the sound shields." Peter's eyebrows furrowed as a high, soft buzzing suddenly began, coming from all sides of them. He glanced around, finding the noise quite irritating.

"Is that really necessary?" He asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow at him, taking his sunglasses off and folding them in his lap. "You can hear that?" He questioned, curiosity bleeding into his tone. Peter just nodded, and Tony hummed in interest. "I see. Well, I figured you wouldn't want anyone listening in on what it is we have to talk about. Was I wrong?"

Peter pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"Didn't think so." Tony reached down to open a mini fridge beside his seat, pulling out a bottled beer and a can of coke. He tossed the coke to Peter, who caught it easily and popped the tab, eager to get a bit of caffeine in his body even though he was already nervous for this conversation. "So." Tony cracked open the beer with a silver bottle opener and gave Peter a knowing look. "I think you know why I'm here."

Peter swallowed, raising the can to his lips and taking a sip to stall for time. After a moment, he nodded curtly.

Tony sighed. "Look, kid. I don't get it. I tried to let you figure it out on your own. I gave you a couple weeks, figured you'd grow out of it or whatever, but you're still hanging around with that freak."

Peter's hand tightened around the can, and it took a concerted effort not to crush it and spill soda all over Tony's car. "It's not really any of your business." Peter tried to sound calm, but his words still came out sharp.

Tony glowered. "The hell it's not. He's a killer, Peter. He _kills people for money_." Tony dragged out his words as if he were explaining it to a kindergartener, making Peter's teeth clench. "And you're a kid. You're not even legal. I'm not going to let you risk your life by trying to be friends with a psychopathic murderer."

"I'm not your responsibility." Peter protested, but Tony plowed right over him.

"Not to mention he's fucking certifiable. Believe me kid, I know. I've worked with the bastard before. How you can even stand to be around him, I'll never understand…"

"You don't have to understand!" Peter retorted, his voice rising as anger and frustration rushed through him. "I know who he is, Mr. Stark. He saved my life. And he's been doing better. He's been helping me, and-"

"Don't be naïve." Tony snapped, pulling a file from beside the fridge and tossing it onto the seat next to Peter. "He hasn't stopped doing what he does best."

Peter stared down at the manila folder, his heart starting to pound unpleasantly. He shook his head. "I'm not looking at that." He stated stubbornly.

Tony leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly. "I never took you for a coward, Peter. Or someone who would choose to remain ignorant."

Peter swallowed, but his hands were shaking slightly as he picked up the folder and brought it to his lap, setting his drink aside. He didn't open it. He just stared down, breathing through his nose and trying to fight against the powerful surge of apprehension that threatened to unhinge him.

"That's what Deadpool was doing on March twentieth. The day he took you to his apartment."

"Saved my life." Peter corrected obstinately, but his voice had lost its edge. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was Spider-Man and he didn't back away from his responsibilities, and flipped open the folder.

He couldn't stop the quiet gasp from breaking past his parted lips. The photograph sitting on top was gruesome. It showed a man tied down to a chair with what looked like electrical wire. He was slumped over, clearly dead considering his throat had been slashed and his entire front was soaked in dark blood. He had a long, thin cut on his cheek, and what looked like stab wounds in his thigh and one of his arms. "Oh, god…" Peter felt vaguely sick. He swallowed hard, his mind flashing back to that night, when he'd asked Wade why he was covered in blood.

He hadn't lied.

"What did he do?" Peter asked, his voice tight.

Tony sighed. "Killed the poor man, clearly. And not before causing him some serious pain first. Deadpool is one sick bastard; he gets off on that stuff. You don't want to see what-"

"No." Peter cut him off, raising his eyes to meet Tony's gaze. "The… The victim. What did he do?" Tony's stare was perplexed now. "Deadpool only kills _bad_ guys." He sounded frantic, almost desperate, and he hated it. Hated how weak he sounded. Tony would take it to mean that Peter was unsure, wavering in his opinion of Deadpool.

Tony just frowned, his eyes darkening. "Peter… That doesn't excuse-"

"Just tell me." He snapped, fingers tightening around the edges of the file.

Tony was silent for a moment, considering him, then he leaned forward, set down his beer, and clasped his hands in front of him. "He was a money launderer for one of the biggest gangs in New York. Mostly drugs and human trafficking."

Peter let out his breath, practically sagging in relief. "See?" He closed the folder and held it out towards Tony, not needing to see any more.

Tony took it back, but the look he was giving Peter was a horrible mix of pity and disappointment. "It doesn't change anything, kid. He still _did_ that. And he enjoyed it, I guarantee you."

Peter nodded, looking down at his lap. "I know, okay? I know. It's wrong. What he does is wrong." He took a breath, steeling himself for Tony to argue. "But I've been helping him be better. I think he can be good, if he tries."

Tony was already shaking his head. "You don't know him, Peter. You might think you do, but you don't. He can't just _get better_. He's broken. Fucked up. A cold-blooded killer. And he might have a twisted sense of morality, but it's never going to be whole. He'll never truly be good."

Peter was shaking his head too, unwilling to accept what Tony was saying. It wasn't fair, to just give up on him like that.

Tony sighed. "Look, kid…" He leaned back in his seat again. "I don't think you should continue this little thing you have going with him." He held up a hand before Peter could protest. "Just think about it, okay?" He held Peter's gaze, making sure he had the young hero's attention. "I don't want you to get… attached, to him. You'll only end up hurt."

Peter's eyes widened just slightly, his heart stuttering in his chest as a truly horrible thought occurred to him. The suit. Tony had been monitoring his vitals through the suit. It was probably how he knew that Peter and Wade had been seeing so much of each other these past couple of weeks.

What if he knew about last night?

He felt sick. "I'm not…" His words trailed off, because he really didn't know what to say to Tony if he _knew_ … He swallowed, face flushing with embarrassment. "Look, it's not like that. I mean, whatever you think you saw… Or heard… Whatever… It's not… I'm really not…" He huffed in flustered frustration. It really wasn't fair of Mr. Stark to be monitoring him like that, even if he had made the suit. It was a total breach of privacy.

"What?" The confusion in Tony's expression slowly gave way to shocked realization, and then he was laughing. "Oh… Oh god, kid. No. Of course I wouldn't think that." He plucked his beer up again and took a sip, still chuckling. "Jesus. Can you imagine? Fucking disgusting." He scoffed and shook his head, and Peter looked down so Tony wouldn't see the tightening of his jaw or the flash of anger in his eyes.

Tony Stark could really be dick sometimes. Peter took a deep breath and forced his racing heart to slow before he spoke again. "How much are you watching me through the suit, anyway?" He asked, trying not to sound too indignant.

Tony shrugged. "Not much, kid. I'm kind of busy, you know. Can't be babysitting your ass all the time." He checked his watch, a reminder to Peter that he _was_ a busy man. He was fucking Iron Man, and he'd come here to talk to Peter because he was worried. Peter couldn't really stay mad about that, could he? Tony ran a hand over his beard and fixed Peter with a thoughtful look. "I know it bothers you. But all I really look at is the GPS, alright? Just to make sure you're not anywhere you shouldn't be. I only knew about your near-death experience because I've told Friday to let me know if you're ever in critical condition."

Peter nodded, feeling a little bad that he'd thought the worst of the well-known hero. "Okay." He picked up his coke can again and fiddled with the tab. "Thanks."

Tony scratched the back of his head and looked out one of the tinted windows, clearly uncomfortable with earnest exchanges. "Sure, kid. Whatever." There was a moment of slightly awkward silence before Tony looked at him again. "Now get out of my car. I've got places to be."

Peter cracked a grin, sliding across the smooth leather seats towards the door. "No problem, Mr. Stark. Thanks for the soda."

Tony rolled his eyes as Peter passed by him, but extended one hand and stopped him from opening the door, catching his gaze one last time. "Just think about what I said, Peter. You have a real future as a hero, and the Avengers will be happy to have you on the team some day." Peter blinked, unable to help it as something inside him soared at the praise from a man he used to idolize, even if his feelings were more mixed now. Tony gave him a stern look. "Don't jeopardize all that just because some crazy mercenary needs a friend."

Peter suppressed a sigh, but managed to nod once before reaching for the door again. "I'll think about it," Was all he was willing to promise.

Tony's car peeled away almost as soon as Peter had shut the door behind him, and he watched it disappear from school property, still reeling from Tony's unexpected visit. Once he was back on the sidewalk, he stood for a minute, sipping his drink (which wouldn't be allowed in a classroom) and letting the sun warm his face. Jesus, things had gotten really weird really fast. With a heavy sigh dripping of his rapidly returning exhaustion, Peter downed the last of his coke and turned to walk back into school. He might not be able to stay awake in his classes today, but he was still morally opposed to skipping. Besides, if he ever did skip class, Harry would never let him live it down.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Despite Peter's exhaustion and zombie-like countenance throughout the day, his mind was still busy. His primary focus was on trying to figure out what to say or do to Wade in order to repair the damage he undoubtedly caused the night before. He soon realized, however, that in order to make _that_ decision he might actually have to figure out how he felt and what he wanted. And that was the hard part.

He was still thinking about it an hour after school ended, sitting with his friends at MJ's dad's diner. The whole gang was there (meaning Ned, MJ, Harry and Peter) for the first time in a long time. Usually it was Peter who begged off hanging out because he just didn't have the time, and when he didn't go, Harry usually didn't go either. But Wednesday was his day off and he knew that if he went home to sit alone in his empty apartment, he'd drive himself absolutely insane thinking about Wade and probably never sleeping again in his life. Harry tagged along because he complained about not seeing Peter enough (even though he'd formed a habit of dropping in on Peter at work and chatting with him long enough that Peter had to kick him out so he could actually get stuff done), and he was apparently able to skip out on executive-training because his father wasn't going to be in for work today. So here he was, trying to keep himself distracted.

It wasn't really working.

Everyone had already seen and commented on the dark circles under his eyes and his absent-mindedness throughout the day, so Peter was relieved when they all seemed content to carry on a conversation without him, just letting him sit there and drown in his thoughts, the sound of their voices and laughter flowing soothingly over his frayed nerves. They had snagged a booth in the back, their usual spot before the diner got busy with the dinner rush. Peter was currently pressed against Harry's side, staring at the familiar scuffed vinyl of their rad, sparkly booth.

MJ and Ned sat across from them, arguing amicably about the pros and cons of requiring math and science courses in high school. Peter would have passionately argued his own opinions on the matter, regardless of how spaced out he was, if he hadn't been approximately ninety percent sure that MJ was just fucking with Ned. Harry would throw in an odd comment here or there, usually just to antagonize the disagreement, but he mostly let them fight it out, one arm wrapped around Peter's shoulders and his thumb stroking gently over the younger boy's collarbone.

He'd been touching Peter a lot more over the past two weeks or so. Peter didn't really mind, especially at times like this when he found the contact soothing. He'd already grown familiar with the gentle warmth and sharp angles of Harry's body pressed against his. Not in a _sexual_ way… Just in a casual, totally friend-appropriate, we-kind-of-cuddle-a-lot way. MJ wouldn't leave them alone about it, but her teasing remarks were the only part that made him feel uncomfortable.

Still, he was so thankful that MJ was completely accepting of it (and even a little too enthusiastic, in Peter's opinion). Not to mention that Ned had been incredibly cool about the whole thing, as well. He'd told his oldest friend what had been going on the afternoon after he and Harry made up. Ned had been appalled, but only by the fact that Peter had been keeping such juicy gossip from him. He was bitter about being out of the loop, but apparently completely fine that Peter was probably bisexual and now kind of in a friend(?) with other stuff(?) relationship(?) with Harry Osborn. In fact, Ned's only complaint was that Peter wasn't willing to full-out date the "sexy billionaire that could pamper his boy like no other sugar-daddy in New York except maybe Tony Stark. Or Osborn Senior." Peter had gagged at that particular comment.

Peter had sucked down one cup of coffee and almost an entire vanilla coke by this point (MJ's dad had those cool old-school flavor syrups), but his eyelids were still drooping as he slumped against Harry, head resting carelessly on the older boy's shoulder, and listened to the increasingly ridiculous debate.

"MJ. Oh my god. If no one was required to take biology then no one would know how the world even _works_! Do you want people walking around thinking that dolphins are fish and sickness is caused by an imbalance of bodily fluids?"

"You can learn those things in middle school, and that's not even the point. You can't _force_ people to think a certain way. Some people are good at logical thinking, but other people are more right-brained. You can't punish someone just because they're a creative thinker; it's not fair!"

"Fair. Oh. Now we're talking about fair. Well is it fair that the U.S. has the some of the lowest test scores in math and science in the whole world? Is that fair? If you want our country to get dumber and dumber, then I guess…"

Peter was startled slightly by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He sat up just enough to dig into his pocket and pull it out. When he pressed the button and saw who had texted, he went stiff, instantly more awake as nervous energy flooded his system.

 **hey peter**

It was Wade. He should have expected that, since anyone else who ever texted Peter was currently sitting either next to or across from him. But the sight of his name there, next to the contents of his text, made Peter's heart beat a little faster. Before he could put the phone away again, three more texts appeared in rapid succession.

 **pete**

 **peter piper picked a pecker**

 **youll never guess what happened 2 me**

Peter swallowed, his stomach dropping uncomfortably. He shoved the phone back into his pocket before he could read anything else that came in. If Wade was texting to brag about getting into Spider-Man's pants, Peter thought he might become physically ill.

"Who was that?" Harry was looking at him curiously, an edge to his words so slight that Peter thought he must have imagined it.

He looked up at Harry, his lips parting in surprise as he desperately tried to think of a plausible lie to tell. Only… What did he have to lie about? Wade was a part of Peter's life, not Spider-Man's. Well, he was, but he… Wasn't. It was confusing to Peter's sleep-deprived mind, but he knew he shouldn't feel the need to lie to Harry about it. "Um, just someone from… From Aunt May's work. No one really."

Guilt dropped heavily into his stomach. Wade wasn't _no one_ … But Harry didn't need to know that. Peter had just always been a terrible liar. It made him feel dirty and wrong.

Harry gave him an appraising sideways look, his thumb falling still on Peter's collar. "You're texting with someone who works at a nursing home?"

By this point in time, their conversation had caught MJ and Ned's attention, and Peter shifted awkwardly under the combined weight of their gazes. "N-No… I just met him there. His, um, aunt lives there." His phone was buzzing again in his pocket, more than once, but he ignored it.

MJ was looking scandalized. "Peter Parker. You have _other_ friends?"

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes, simply shifting in his seat to put a little more space between he and Harry. "Is that not allowed?" He snarked.

Ned shook his head gravely. "Definitely not. I mean, come on, dude. It took you like two whole years just to make three friends. When did you even meet this guy?"

Peter shrugged. "A few weeks ago." He glanced back at Harry, noticing that the older boy's face had fallen blank, his gaze distant and aloof as he stared at the table, a familiar expression usually reserved for when he was around his father. It made Peter's throat feel tight. Harry didn't ever look like that around _him_ … Until now. Peter reached up for Harry's hand and unwound the Ralph Lauren-clad arm from his shoulders, only to draw the hand into his lap, where he laced their fingers together.

Harry offered him a brief, weak but warm smile, and Peter felt a little better. He began running his thumb over the back of Harry's hand as MJ started her own personal game of twenty questions.

"What's his name? How old is he? How do you know he's not a murderer or something?" That was a funny one. "Have you been hanging out? Does Aunt May know him? Can we meet him?"

Peter managed to answer most of those with three words or less. "Wade. I don't know. Don't be stupid. Not really. Yes. And, um… No."

MJ started in on more questions, and he could tell from the spark in her bright eyes that she wasn't going to let him keep getting away with providing so few details. So before she could drag him to a mirrored room and start the real interrogation, he excused himself to the bathroom.

Shutting and locking the door behind him, Peter was able to take a deep breath and slow his pounding heart. This was getting… complicated. He'd never expected that he'd end up telling his friends about Wade. Because Wade was Deadpool, it had never occurred to him that those two worlds might touch. It was starting to get harder to keep them separate, and that made him nervous.

"Stupid big red menace…" He muttered to himself as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Wade had texted him an alarming number of times.

 **peeeeeter**

 **don't u wanna guess?**

 **pete**

 **petey pie**

 **srsly guess**

 **it was so awesome u wont believe it**

 **petester**

 **p**

 **e**

 **t**

 **e**

 **r**

 **peter peterpeterpetpereprpeteprpetpeprpetpeprpeptepr**

Peter heaved a heavy, exasperated sigh and was about to put the phone back in his pocket when another text came in.

 **r u ignoring me?**

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden twinge of guilt beneath his ribs. Wade didn't know who he was. It wasn't fair of him to let his confusion and mixed feelings get taken out on _Wade_ too, especially not when he'd already fucked things up so bad with Deadpool. So he typed out a response and only hesitated for a second before sending it, vowing to himself that if Wade provided details of his encounter with Spider-Man, he would kick Deadpool's ass _so_ fucking hard…

 **No. What happened to you?**

A few moments passed, and Peter's anxiety built. If Wade made him guess, he might just throw his phone in the toilet and leave it there…

 **i saw a dog eating an icecream cone**

Attached to the text was a picture. A picture of an adorable husky puppy with its nose buried in an ice cream cone that appeared to have been dropped on the ground at a park.

Peter felt a grin spread over his face. How stupid of him… Of course Wade would never betray Spider-Man like that. And of course, despite everything, he'd be able to make Peter smile with something so simple and silly. He sent a quick text back.

 **Oh my god. Too adorable.**

He got a reply within a few seconds.

 **thanx ;) ur totes adorbs 2**

Peter rolled his eyes, but his grin stayed in place.

 **You know what they say about nerd glasses…**

 **u got me there bb**

Peter's heart skipped a beat as he read those last two letters, his mind replacing the usual abbreviation with that familiar nickname. Deadpool only called him Baby Boy when he was Spider-Man, but imagining Wade saying it… Saying it to _him_ , Peter. It made him feel warm all over.

 **want 2 hang tonite?**

Peter stared down at the last text, his heart rate picking up again as he thought about it. Did he want to? Of course. But he couldn't see Wade and not think of… Last night. He knew he wouldn't be able to act normally around him. And he didn't want to ruin Peter and Wade, too. He needed to figure out how he felt before he saw Wade _or_ Deadpool.

 **Can't, sorry. Rain check?**

 **sure**

Peter didn't get any more texts after that, but he waited around for another minute just in case. He was feeling guiltier than ever as he made his way back to the table. Thankfully MJ and Ned had started arguing about something else by the time Peter slid into the seat beside Harry, so he didn't have to continue answering questions about Wade.

Harry returned his arm to its usual spot around Peter's shoulders and let the younger boy press into his side again.

"Your dad really won't mind you skipping work today?" Peter asked softly, partly to distract Harry so he wouldn't ask about Wade either, and partly because he was genuinely worried about his friend and wanted to make sure he wasn't going to get in trouble for this.

Harry shook his head slightly. "No. He's sick or something. He probably won't even check to see if I came in."

Peter frowned and looked up in concern. "Is he okay?"

Harry just shrugged, jostling Peter a bit. "I guess. He's been holing himself up in the labs at night and disappearing into his rooms during the day. I'm not sure what he's working on, but it's been keeping him even busier than usual. And when I _do_ see him, he's…" Harry trailed off, his gaze distant. Peter bit down on his bottom lip, suddenly worried. "Stranger than usual." Harry finished.

"He's probably just working himself too hard and getting stressed." Peter suggested, and Harry nodded a little. But Peter could still tell it was bothering him. Unsure how to help, and knowing that he wanted to comfort his friend, Peter reached up and lay one hand along Harry's jaw, tilting the older boy's face towards him. He leaned up, taking a quick, nervous breath before carefully pressing his lips against Harry's. He still got jittery every time they kissed, even though they'd done it several more times since they made up.

Harry hummed lightly and pressed into Peter's mouth with more enthusiasm then he'd been expecting, the older boy's lips parting eagerly. Peter let his eyes drift shut and moved his mouth in tandem with Harry's for a few moments, but he was distracted by the coiling ball of sharply aching guilt that was settling in his stomach. This wasn't fair to Harry. Or Wade. Fuck. Now he was thinking about Wade… When he pulled away, Harry's lips chased his until Peter tipped his head away and looked down shyly.

"Eeeeeh, you guys are too fucking cute!" Peter flinched at MJ's squeal, his cheeks quickly gaining a pink tinge. This was why they didn't kiss too often. Harry didn't seem to have any problem with kissing Peter in any number of circumstances, but Peter didn't like it when MJ and Ned were watching, or when they were in the hallway at school, or the parking lot at Oscorp, or hell, at Peter's _desk_ in the corporation's basement labs. He always pulled away before things got too heated, scolding Harry for his lack of professionalism regarding PDA.

He'd avoided going over to Harry's or having Harry over to his. He made excuses about being too busy, and he really _was_ busy, but he had other reasons, too. He was nervous. And he didn't want things to progress too far. He loved hanging with Harry, and these new things they'd been doing (the cuddling and the hand holding and even the occasional kisses) were nice. But if it went further than that, someone was going to get hurt. Peter couldn't have a relationship. He just couldn't. Not with Spider-Man. Keeping secrets and putting his loved ones in danger was _not_ the life Peter wanted to live. So he was keeping Harry at arms distance (figuratively), at least until he could figure out a better solution.

Not to mention, now there was… Wade. And Peter had never intended for that to happen, but somehow it had become… complicated. And he couldn't figure out if the same rules applied when it came to Deadpool. Because he knew Spider-Man. And he couldn't die. Did that mean that all the rules could be thrown out the window? What about his role in _Peter's_ life? God, it was just too much. It was giving him a headache on top of the headache he already had.

So he just sighed and let Harry press a kiss into his hair, lay his head back down on his friend's shoulder and listened to a debate about the new season of Game of Thrones. He'd think about it when he went home. That was guaranteed.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter didn't go out as Spider-Man that night. He was too exhausted, and too distracted. He'd probably end up getting himself stabbed or accidentally fall off a roof or something. Not to mention, he was terrified of seeing Deadpool. He didn't know what to say. How to act. It was better to wait until he had a plan, and he was too tired to come up with one that night.

But by the next night, he still didn't have a plan. He went out anyway, because he couldn't justify _not_ saving people just because he was having personal drama, but he actively avoided Deadpool. He couldn't go to their roof. He was too scared. Too embarrassed. The more time that passed, the more he couldn't believe what had happened. How he'd rubbed himself off against Deadpool like some sex-crazed lust kitten. It was mortifying. And he didn't know what he'd do if he saw Deadpool again. He couldn't risk… _Something_ happening that he would regret later.

So he went to Hell's Kitchen, an area that he usually avoided given Daredevil's territorial posturing. He knew Deadpool wouldn't look for him there. He didn't run into the devil, thankfully, but he did stop two muggings and busted a drug dealer, so that was good.

On his way back to Queens, something strange happened. He was swinging along, hardly paying attention because he was finished patrolling and his mind was already miles away, when his spidey-sense tingled. It was just a quiet itch at the base of his spine, but it put him on edge. He focused his senses and slowed down a bit, not wanting to lead anyone back to his home if he was being followed. Just to be safe, he changed direction a bit and kept a sharp eye out for anything weird.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later his neck tingled again, more sharply this time, and a moment after he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head in time to see a flash of green disappearing around the edge of a building.

Anger and adrenalin immediately surged through Peter's veins, making him grit his teeth as he shot a web and changed direction with a sharp turn, narrowly missing a power line as he went after that flash of green. He knew who it was. Who it had to be.

He hurdled around a building and there he was, hovering in the middle of the street, mask stretched into that grotesque grin. The Green Goblin. Peter didn't hesitate to shoot a web, aiming for the hover-sled's exhaust tubes like he had last time, hoping to immobilize the villain, or at least slow him down. If he could get him out of the air, then Peter was sure he could win.

But the goblin swerved away with unnerving speed, and Peter's web stuck to a lamppost instead. He cursed under his breath and focused on dodging as the throwing knives came flying. His spidey-sense did most of the work and all he had to do was follow his instincts, moving this way and twisting that way, shooting webs until the street was almost covered in them. The goblin finally seemed to run out of knives and he threw one of his smoke grenades instead. Peter webbed it before it could hit the ground, effectively encasing it so that none of its poisonous contents could leak out.

The goblin didn't seem pleased about that. He rushed Peter, and Peter was forced to cut his swing short and hurdle into a wall to avoid him. He clung there, watching as the Green Goblin swung around and prepared to fly at him again. He clenched his jaw and made a decision. This needed to end. He couldn't just keep dodging until the goblin got bored and disappeared again; he needed to do something.

So when the sled and its passenger were hurdling at breathtaking speeds towards Spider-Man, instead of dodging he leapt forward, slamming into the goblin and trying to knock him off. The sled dipped for a moment, but then the goblin got one hand around Peter's neck and slammed him into the wall, his other green hand landing on Peter's shoulder and pressing down until Peter let out a short cry of pain.

He struggled, bringing his feet up to land a strong kick on the goblin's stomach. The villain grunted, but didn't let go. He leaned in close to Peter's face and his mechanical voice sent shudders of fear down the young hero's spine.

"I hope you have sweet dreams tonight, little spider, because I am about to become your worst nightmare."

And then he released Peter all at once, zipping away as Peter plummeted towards the ground, gone before he could even catch himself on the wall, clumsily stopping himself from breaking an ankle. The sound of the Green Goblin's blood-chilling laughter echoed through the street for a few moments before fading to silence in the distance.

Peter let himself slide all the way to the ground, breathing hard, head spinning. "Fuck." He looked around helplessly, frustration and fear surging through him. "Fuck!" He yelled, hands clenching into fists at his sides, then he shot a web and took off towards home, fuming.

He couldn't win. Why couldn't he win? The goblin must be a mutant or a mutate like Peter. He was far stronger and faster than a normal human. And he'd hardly even flinched when Peter kicked him with superhuman strength. Spider-Man couldn't stop him. Couldn't stop him from hurting the people of New York. What the hell kind of a superhero was he if he couldn't stop the bad guy when it really mattered?

And it didn't make sense. The last two times he'd run into the Green Goblin, he was wreaking havoc in _extremely_ crowded public places. But tonight? An abandoned street in the middle of Queens? The only explanation was that he'd been following Spider-Man. He knew he had. But why? To try to kill the hero? If that's what he'd wanted, then why leave? He had Peter pinned to the wall. He could have crushed Peter's throat then and there, he could feel it.

It didn't make sense.

Peter let himself in through his bedroom window, frustrated almost to tears, and practically tore his suit off. He was useless. He'd never be an Avenger. He didn't deserve to be. He couldn't handle anything more than purse-snatchers and lowlife drug dealers and rapists. He runs into one non-human and he's completely outmatched. Even Deadpool could probably beat him, if he really tried.

Peter collapsed into his bed and lay with his face in his pillow, telling himself that he'd be even more pathetic if he cried. He wanted to call Wade. He didn't know why, but he ached to talk to the bad-mouthed anti-hero about this. He just… He knew Wade would make him feel better.

But he didn't even deserve that.

So he let himself drown in his own misery. And tried to catch a few hours of sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next day was Saturday. Peter sat at home by himself and went absolutely stir crazy. Around lunchtime he took his board out and skated around Queens, but he was lonely and frustrated and every minute that passed just made him feel more so. He _could_ call any of his friends to hang out. He knew MJ was working at the diner; he could visit her. Ned would probably be thrilled if he came over to work on their model. Harry would over the moon if Peter called him to go out, or just invited him over for pizza.

But he didn't want to see them. He wanted Wade.

It was irrational and stupid and selfish and awful, but he wanted Wade. He wanted to go to Wade's apartment and play Mario Cart and feel warm and safe and happy. He wanted to talk shit about Princess Peach and argue about whether or not cats can read minds. He wanted to listen to Wade convince the Taco Bell cashier to deliver food to his door because anyone will do anything for enough money.

He couldn't believe how much he missed the man after only three days. Hell, he'd only even _met_ Wade like three times. But he'd seen Deadpool almost every day for the last three weeks. He'd gotten used to having those inappropriate comments and random rants in his life. He got his phone out and stared at Wade's texts dozens of times, but they never changed. He never received a new one. He argued with himself about initiating contact, offering to cash in on that rain check. He wanted to _so_ badly, but he couldn't. Nothing had changed.

He couldn't see Wade until he hashed things out with Deadpool. So that night, Peter put on his suit and headed for their rooftop.

It was fairly early for a meet-up, only ten o'clock or so. Aunt May was working a night shift and wouldn't be home until the morning. It sucked, but at least she got paid double and it made sneaking in and out as Spider-Man whenever he wanted a whole lot easier.

When he landed on the roof, he could see Deadpool already sitting on the edge facing away from him. It made Peter feel even guiltier to see him here so early; he'd probably been coming here every night since Peter started avoiding him. He swallowed, trying desperately to think of what he could say to make it up to the mercenary. He wasn't prepared… What if he fucked it up more by saying the wrong thing? Heart beginning to pound, Peter stepped back behind a vent so Deadpool wouldn't spot him if he turned around. He could still see the figure in red and black through the gaps in the vent, and he stared as he tried to put together the right words to apologize and let Deadpool know… How he felt. Or something.

As he watched, he realized Deadpool was speaking to himself. He knew it made him even more of a terrible person, but he couldn't help but listen in (because super hearing, and he'd always been too curious for his own good). Wade was clearly talking to the boxes, and he sounded miserable. It stole Peter's breath away to hear his voice coming out in a broken growl, the words simultaneously imbued with pain and a horrible numbness, like he'd said all of this before. Maybe many times.

"Shut up… Shut up shut up shut up. I know." Wade had a knife in his hands. Peter would say that he was playing with it, but the movements were too intentional, too practiced and dangerous. "Sliced up, tied up… Pretty little webs all over the floor. _Shut up_ , White. No… No, we won't. He won't." The knife disappeared in front of Deadpool, and Peter held his breath. There was silence for a moment.

Wade stood up in one sudden, fluid motion. "We could. It would shut you up, at least." He started pacing along the edge of the roof, steps dangerously close to toppling him over into empty space. "You don't think so? Last time my head got smashed up pretty good. Unicorns and Ke$ha, baby. A little bit of silence for once." Peter frowned, concern and dread rising inside him even though he didn't quite understand what Wade was talking about. He almost stepped out to get the mercenary's attention, but Deadpool turned away from the edge and paced in the opposite direction, so he stayed put.

"Don't taunt me, Yellow." He growled, anger entering his tone. "He won't. Never again. We made fucking sure of that." His pacing became less controlled, almost jerky, the lines of his body suddenly filled with tension. "You already told me… Fucking assault. We made sure… I don't care. I won't let you. I won't." A gun appeared in his hand, and Peter found himself holding his breath again. He hadn't seen Wade like this since the night he found out that Peter was sixteen… And this was his fault. It was obviously his fault. Peter felt sick.

Wade had come to a stop, his stillness radiating danger as he stared out over the city. "We did what we could, to save this car from crashing." These words were softer, calmer, a strange rhythm to them that made them sound like poetry. Or song lyrics. "Your pretty face is soaked in blood." Peter could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. "You know, I still find you dashing." Wade raised the barrel of the gun to his temple.

"No!" Peter shot out from his hiding place, terror flashing through him. He'd shot a web before he even realized what he was doing, yanking the gun from Wade's hand. In an instant another gun appeared, trained on Peter as Deadpool whipped around to face him.

His spidey-sense shot sharp, hot warning down his spine, but Peter didn't care. He was shaking. "What the hell!" He yelled.

Wade stared at him for a moment, mask blank. Then he lowered the gun, slowly tucking it back in a holster at his hip. "What do you want." He asked, voice flat and expressionless.

Peter stared, shocked. "What do I… W- Deadpool. What the fuck? What do you think you're doing?" He moved forward, hands outstretched, dumbfounded. Wade took a step backwards and crossed his arms over his chest. Peter froze, his heart leaping into his throat. "Deadpool." He breathed. God, what had he done? He knew Wade would be upset, but… He hadn't thought… He should have known. He should have remembered how Deadpool was. "I'm so sorry."

Deadpool straightened slightly, and his surprise was evident even through his mask. "Sorry? Why are _you_ sorry?"

Peter swallowed, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his stomach and curl in on himself. He was Spider-Man right now. He needed to do what was right. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I knew… I knew what I was doing, but I did it anyway. And I'm sorry. I was really selfish and careless and I should have stayed and talked to you instead of running away like a coward."

Deadpool looked incredulous now, his arms falling to his sides as he stepped forward. "Look." His voice was a growl again, and Peter swallowed as a subtle tingle ran down his spine. "I don't need your fucking pity. So don't make up shit on my account." Peter blinked at him in shock and opened his mouth to protest, but Wade didn't give him the chance. "I practically _raped_ you." He choked the word out, mangled and full of self-hatred. "Of course you were going to run away and avoid me like the fucking plague. Like the nightmare I am. So stop with the hero complex and just run along and spin your webs solo like you did before. You're better off."

Peter was shocked. "You think… Jesus, Deadpool. You think any of that was against my _will_?" God, he was so stupid. He should have made sure Wade was okay. He should have told him _why_ he left. Fuck. Peter felt sick again. He stepped towards Deadpool, closing the space between them, desperate to show the mercenary that he was wrong. "It wasn't… God, it wasn't like that. I-"

Suddenly Deadpool had moved into his space, faster than Peter was prepared for, and grabbed hold of his shoulders. Peter squeaked slightly in surprise, but didn't try to move away. He squirmed slightly under Deadpool's tight grip. "Hold still." Wade hissed, and Peter froze, confused and just a little frightened.

Wade was staring at his left shoulder, and he bent down slightly, raising a hand to pinch something between his gloved fingers. When he pulled away, Peter caught sight of something tiny and green in Wade's hand. "W-What's that?" He asked, perplexed.

Wade's voice was tight when he answered, and his tone sent a wave of fear through Peter's body. "It's a tracker."

Peter's mouth fell open. He felt the blood drain from his face as panic washed over him, hot and terrible. "A… Oh, god…" His breath sped up, heart stuttering into a breakneck pace in his chest. He felt faint. "Oh, god… Oh god oh god oh god." The Green Goblin. That fight. "Oh my god I'm so stupid… Oh my god…" It had been a set up. Of course it had been. And Peter had walked right into it. "He… fuck… Oh my god…" He had to do something, he had to… But when Peter took a step forward, to go somewhere, to do _something_ , the world spun around him.

"Sh, Spidey, it's okay." Suddenly Wade's hands were on his arms, holding him up, grounding him. "It's okay, take a deep breath." Peter tried, but his chest felt tight. "Just breathe, okay Spidey? You're fine. Now walk me through it. When could this have happened?"

Peter swallowed hard. "Yesterday… Oh, god, it was yesterday, he… I should have known. He was following me, and…" Fuck. He'd gone home last night. He'd gone straight home and led the goblin right to his doorstep. Peter whimpered, and it took him a moment to realize that his knees had gone weak and Wade had gathered him into his arms, lowering them both to sit on the ground. "Oh my god… Oh my god, he knows. He knows who… Who I am."

"It's okay, Baby Boy, it's okay." Wade was running one hand over Peter's back, rubbing slow, calming circles between his shoulders. "We'll deal with it, alright? It'll be okay. Just take a deep breath." Peter took a shuddering breath. Then another. His head was swimming and his cheeks were wet. He leaned forward so his forehead could rest on Wade's shoulder, his body shaking with suppressed sobs. "Sh, sh… It'll be fine, Spidey. It'll be fine. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Peter choked out a muffled sob, his hands rising to clutch desperately at the leather straps that held Deadpool's katanas on his back. He would be freaking out even more if Aunt May was home right now, but she wasn't. She was safe. At least for a few hours. And Despite the fact that Peter felt like his whole world was suddenly crumbling around him, Wade was succeeding in making him feel better. Because he was right. As horrible as this was, they could work on a plan to deal with it. And Peter trusted Wade to have his back. Despite everything, he knew Wade would never let him get hurt. "I'm s-sorry…" He managed to say, voice wavering.

Deadpool just wrapped Peter up in his arms and held him closer. "Hush, Baby Boy. You're fine. Everything's fine. Don't worry, okay? Deadpool's got you."

Peter took a deep breath, his senses flooded with the scent of gunpowder and leather and _Wade_. He felt warm. He felt safe. And with each breath, he felt calmer. Finally, the tears had stopped. He didn't feel like he was drowning anymore. He wanted to close his eyes and sink into Wade and just stay here forever, but he forced himself to pull back.

"Deadpool…" He stared up into Wade's mask, and he was overtaken by an urge so great he couldn't stop himself. He reached up, his fingers landing on the bottom edge of the mask. Wade's hands flashed up too, gripping Peter's wrists and stopping him from moving. Peter swallowed. "Please…" He breathed, his chest aching with need. "Please, just… I need this."

He knew Wade wouldn't deny him. Couldn't deny him anything. After a few drawn out seconds, Deadpool's hands fell away. Peter stared into the eye patches of his mask, moving slowly as his fingers slipped under the edge and lifted, slow, careful, until the edge of Wade's chin was visible. He kept going, folding the mask up to Wade's nose, his heart beginning to pound. He stopped there, hands falling away. He swallowed. He reached for his own mask, rolling it up to his nose, as well.

"Spidey…" Wade breathed, reverent, wary. Peter just shook his head. His hands landed on Wade's chest, fingers spreading over smooth red fabric, and he leaned up.

Wade's lips were incredibly soft for how scarred they were. And hot. Burning up, like Wade had a fever. He could feel the mercenary trembling beneath his hands, fighting to hold himself still. Peter didn't want him still, frozen like he couldn't bear to take what he wanted. So he pressed forward, pushing against Wade's mouth with more pressure, a soft noise full of desire crawling up his throat as he tried to get the man to respond.

A similar noise broke past Wade's lips, mirroring Peter's, and then the mercenary unfroze. His arms tightened around Peter's back and his lips parted, his mouth beginning to move with a slow, burning smoothness against Peter's. Peter was immediately overtaken by that heat, that need, that ocean wave that wiped all thought from his mind and took over his body. Wade's tongue swiped hot and possessive over Peter's bottom lip, and Peter gasped, ragged and broken, his head spinning. And then Wade was licking into his mouth, tongue skillfully sliding against Peter's, drawing forward an unbidden moan, so dirty and wanton that Peter flushed even hotter than he already was. Wade was taking his mouth, slow and deep, and Peter felt like he was being devoured.

And this wasn't nice, like Harry's kisses were. This was wet and filthy and absolutely _wrecking_ Peter. Wrecking them both. Wade was fisting the fabric of Spider-Man's suit, his hands grasping desperately at Peter's back as he fought to pull him closer. And Peter wanted to be closer. He needed to be. He needed to feel Wade against him, on him, all around him. He wanted to sink into Wade's skin and feel him on every inch of his body.

He gasped again, breathless, needy, lightheaded from lack of oxygen but he couldn't pull away from Wade's mouth, couldn't bare to. He couldn't stop kissing Wade for one second, even as he shifted, crawling into Wade's lap and wrapping his arms around the mercenary's neck. He came to settle against Deadpool's warm, hard body, straddling him, the fire inside simultaneously sated and stoked by the increased contact. He could feel Wade there, pressed against his ass, arousal hard and obvious through the thin fabric of Deadpool's suit. He whimpered, and he knew from Wade's responding shudder that he could feel Peter, too, pressing against his stomach.

"Please…" Peter gasped against Wade's mouth, hands sliding along broad shoulders and down thick, heavily muscled arms. Wade's tongue was slowly unraveling him, taking him apart piece by piece until he was shaking, head swimming, body aching with heat. "Need you…" He mumbled into wet heat, fingers curling in the fabric of Wade's suit, desperate, needy.

Wade groaned, low and rough, full of so much desire that Peter shuddered, his hips grinding down instinctually. That pulled a short, harsh breath from Wade, and then he was pulling away from Peter's lips, kissing down his jaw instead. "Baby Boy…" He breathed, and Peter shivered, mouth falling open as he tipped his head back, giving Wade unbridled access to his neck. Wade trailed soft, feather-light kisses down his skin, making Peter moan with loss and need. He wanted more. He wanted to be devoured. He wanted to be marked.

But Wade held back, never giving him more than a slight scrape of teeth, a gentle sweep of the tongue, making Peter shake and gasp, broken pleas falling from his parted lips. "Sh…" Wade just hushed against his skin. "Spidey… My Baby Boy…" Wade was petting his back, hands smoothing down his spine in a repetitive, soothing pattern, bringing him back from the brink, guiding him down. "Breathe, Spidey… Sh… That's my good boy."

Peter swallowed, taking short, shallow gulps of air as he sunk back into his body, feeling his heart rate slowly decrease again. "Dead… Pool…" He breathed, gently releasing his tight grip on the mercenary's arms, letting his hands slide back onto his chest. God, that was… He was…

Wade finally pulled back, just enough to look at Peter, and his lips were curling up into a smile. A gentle smile full of awe. "I guess you really do like me, huh Spidey?"

Peter let out a short, breathy laugh. "Um, obviously…" He let his head fall forward to rest against Wade's shoulder. "Idiot." He accused fondly.

Wade ran a hand from the back of Peter's neck to the base of his spine, and Peter arched into his touch with a soft hum. "Don't worry, okay, Spidey?" Wade's tone was soothing, full of something warm that made Peter feel like he'd never have to worry again. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"I know." Peter breathed. And he believed it. He would be okay. Wade would watch his back, and Peter would make sure he was ready for the goblin, anytime and anywhere. He'd wear his web shooters at all times from now on. Take his suit with him wherever he went. Make sure Aunt May was never left alone.

He'd be okay.

Peter tipped his head back and pressed a kiss into the underside of Wade's chin, lips curling into a smile as he remembered that first urge he'd had to do so three weeks ago. "You taste like peppermint candy…" He mumbled against warm, scarred skin.

Wade chuckled. "And you taste like heaven, Baby Boy."

Peter pulled back to blink up at Deadpool, contentedness settling into every line of his body. "And what does that taste like?" He teased.

Wade just flashed him a smile, one hand coming up to rest on Peter's cheek, fabric covered thumb swiping across his bottom lip. "Like sugar and lust and sweet, sweet innocence." Peter suppressed a shiver.

Wade let his hand fall away. "Let's get you home, Spidey. You just lock the doors and windows and focus on protecting your family, okay? I'll patrol tonight. No worries. And then I'll do some digging on this Green Goblin bitch and tomorrow night we'll come up with a plan. Okay?"

Peter blinked at him, warm and fuzzy feelings spreading through his chest. Suddenly, with all the subtlety and softness of a wrecking ball, Peter was hit with a realization.

He had fallen in love with Wade Wilson. With Deadpool. He fell silently. He fell hard. And he didn't realize it until it was too late.

Wade didn't seem bothered by his stunned silence, unaware of the momentous epiphany Peter was experiencing. "Oh, and you should have my number. Just in case." He reached into one of his pouches and produced a small business card. Peter took it on autopilot and stared down at the words, black on red.

 **Deadpool**  
 **Dope Ass Prince; Immortal**  
 **Unaliving since fuck knows when. Very good at it.**

Underneath was a phone number.

"Call me anytime, alright? I always answer. Well, I'll always answer now that I know you might call me. Pinky promise." Wade leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss onto the top of Peter's head. "If you ever need me… For _anything_. You call. Okay?"

Peter just nodded mutely, still reeling.

Wade carefully detangled them and helped Peter to his feet. Peter stared up at Wade's masked eyes, still clutching the business card in front of him. Wade just smiled again, in that soft way that made Peter's heart pound, and leaned down to press the softest kiss to his lips. It still made Peter feel faint. He pulled back and carefully folded Spider-Man's mask back down over Peter's mouth. "You okay to swing home?"

Peter nodded again. "Thank you." He managed to mumble, voice weak.

"No problem, Spidey-Babe. No problem at all. Don't you worry your pretty little head about a thing. Deadpool will take care of it." He was bouncing a bit on his toes, clearly already ready to go out and patrol. "You just get home and stay safe, alright?"

Peter nodded and stepped towards the edge of the roof, caught in a daze. He tucked the card away. He shot a web. He swung home. He checked the door. He checked the windows. He checked his suit for any more tiny trackers. He detached his web shooters and kept them on when he changed out of the suit. He got into bed. He stared at the ceiling.

He was in love with Wade Wilson. And Deadpool. The whole package. Every little bit.

And that didn't make things complicated at all.

Nope. Not at all.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
Marduk T-Shirt Men's Room Incident - The Mountain Goats  
Lyrics:  
House Fire - Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	10. Forever With My Poison Arms Around You

**Wade**

 **[White]**  
 **{Yellow}**

{Holy fuck shit tittie gods and all that is good and bloody jesus fucking hell SPIDEYYYYYYYYY oh my god oh my god oh my god we bagged Spidey we BAGGED SPIDEY our precious Baby Boy what the fuck how did that happen oh my fucking god he kissed us fuck me with an angry snake he kissed us _so good_ and god those noises those goddamn noises oh god and his hands and fuck fuck fuck scratch me with a thousand kitty claws he felt so damn fucking GOOD oh my god I can't even this was the best motherfucking night ever the best goddamn moment in our whole miserable shit fuck life and did you hear the way he asked for us oh my _god_ how did we not come in our pants jesus but really why the hell didn't we fuck him we could have fucked him so good Wade so fucking good and he fucking _wanted_ it wanted us and all we did was kiss him goddamn it and remember how he squirmed against us fucking hell with that lithe little body we could have oh my god and his voice Spidey's fucking voice I don't even know it was like fucking sex better than sex and oh god if we could just listen to him all goddamn day making those little whimpers and ugh fuck me so goddamn good and putting our hands on him on our Baby Boy and the way he liked it hot damn flaming balls of jesus he liked it so good did you see how he moved}

Yellow wouldn't stop talking. He hadn't stopped since Wade watched Spidey swing off that rooftop almost an hour ago. It was cramping Wade's crime-fighting style, to be honest, but so far any attempts he'd made to shut Yellow up had gone entirely unnoticed. He settled for just talking over the box's excitable chatter and hoping some of it got through to his obviously blown mind. "Shut the fuck up, Yellow. We didn't fuck him because he's obviously a virgin and Spidey's special. His first time shouldn't be up on the middle of some hotel rooftop when he's fucked up and emotional. It should be perfect. He deserves perfect."

{Yeah… He really does.} Yellow agreed dreamily. { _He's_ perfect.}

Wade smirked in amusement, leaping across an alley to catch hold of a neighboring fire escape. "Oh, you're finally done? Gonna actually listen to me now?"

{Well, it wouldn't make sense for me to keep that up now that the readers are following along. They'll expect things to actually happen, you know. And it wouldn't be very entertaining if I just kept distracting you with boner material on Spidey for the rest of the chapter.}

"True that." Wade grumbled, climbing up a metal ladder to another rooftop. It was, unfortunately, true. He'd pretty much been hard since Spider-Man said "please" in that goddamn perfect voice, so desperate and pretty. And he wasn't above stopping in some alley to beat one out, but he'd promised Spidey he'd patrol tonight, and he was going to make fucking sure that there was absolutely no crime in the city. Not on his watch, not tonight. He was going to make Spidey trust him if it fucking killed him (and it might, if this stiffie lasted much longer – how long does an erection have to last before you're supposed to go to the hospital?).

{I think it's five hours, according to the Viagra commercials.}

"Talk to your doctor today to find out if Viagra is right for you!" Wade recited cheerfully. He paused on a ledge and looked out over the city, planting his hands on his hips for the full hero effect. He listened hard for any sign of crime, but it wasn't as easy as it looked. It probably helped that Spidey actually had super hearing. Wade was feeling a little useless now, but he absolutely _couldn't_ screw up and let something bad happen when Spider-Man had trusted him with this.

{I still think you should have blown off the stupid patrol and followed Spidey home. He could be in _danger_!}

Wade's jaw tightened as he fought against a frown. "Spidey can take care of himself. And besides, his secret identity is important to him. I can't betray that."

{Which is more important: Spidey's identity? Or his life?}

Wade huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. "His life, _obviously_. But he's super strong and he'll be ready for anything now. Not to mention if all the goblin had planned was going to Spidey's home and killing him, he would have done that last night." Not that that was a comforting thought, since it meant that the goblin most likely had something even worse planned, but Wade would take what he could get right now. He was trying desperately to convince himself that he'd made the right choice in letting Spidey go home alone. "Maybe I should call and check on him."

{You didn't get his number, dumbass. You just gave him ours.}

"Oh, right… Fuck." He pulled out his Deadpool phone to check in case Spidey had called and he hadn't heard, but there was nothing new. Several texts and emails from Weasel and a few blocked numbers offering him jobs, but he ignored those and tucked the phone back into its pouch. He paused, waiting for White to say something critical about Wade's lack of mercenary work and general lack of killing in the last couple weeks, but nothing was forthcoming. Come to think of it, White had been suspiciously silent ever since they kissed Spidey.

{Are you pouting?}

[…]

Wade frowned. "Seriously? The silent treatment? That's a new one. What's got your balls all in a twist?"

[…You won't listen to me.]

"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm listening to you right now." Wade threw his hands up in frustration.

[No. You won't _listen_ to me. About Spider-Man.]

Wade went still, his mask falling into a blank expression as dangerous hostility settled over him. "What _about_ Spider-Man?" He asked quietly, voice tight.

White didn't answer for a moment. [He's just going to hurt us.]

Wade tensed, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He hissed out between his teeth.

[He only kissed us because he was scared and emotional and we were being nice. It was purely situational.]

"I don't think that's-"

{No no no no no no. No fucking way. You shut your filthy fucking mouth Spidey _likes_ us. He wanted us. He said he liked us. Didn't he say that?}

"Yeah. He did. He said he likes us and then he called us an idiot. But in a good way!"

{Exactly. So there.}

"Right. Just shut up, White. You're wrong. We don't want to listen to your pessimistic little bullshit rants. Spidey likes us."

[Fine. I won't say anything else. I'll just keep my mouth shut until the time comes to say 'I told you so.']

Wade frowned at that, gritting his teeth, but White didn't say anything else, so he forced himself to let it go. "Fine then. Let's go kick some ass." He backed up a few steps and took a running leap to the next building. "But only criminal ass, and only in a non-lethal way!"

{Ew. No fun. Unless it leads to sex with our Spidey baby! Then it will be super fun!}

"Yeah… So worth it."

{That ass…}

Wade didn't cover much ground on foot, but he did manage to stop a corner store robbery and two attempted car jackings, so that was something at least. And he only broke four bones and left one guy mildly concussed! Points for unsupervised restraint all around.

As the navy-grey light of predawn started creeping up along the horizon, Wade called it a night and headed to his nearest safe house. His work was far from over. He threw himself down on a stain-covered couch, ordered like ten pizzas, and pulled out his most advanced tech so he could take a look at the tiny green tracker he'd slipped into one of his pockets after pulling it off Spidey.

A visual inspection of the little thing told him nothing, even under a dusty microscope he managed to drag up from somewhere.

{Really writers? Such thinly veiled planting of convenient objects in places where they wouldn't normally be… Am I sensing some laziness?}

"Hey, I'm tech savvy. I have some stuff sometimes." Wade retorted defensively.

[Sure. That's a witty argument.]

Wade just rolled his eyes and set about trying to detect whatever signal the tracker was sending out with his military-grade signal detection programs. Doing so reminded him that he hadn't swept for bugs in any of his safe houses in a long time. He hadn't bothered because he hadn't _needed_ to. No one could kill him, so he wasn't all that concerned about safety. But now that Spidey was in danger, he'd better get his shit back up to code. No way was he gonna let that douchebag goblin, or anyone else for that matter, get at Spidey through him.

[Not to mention the new Weapon X… They're after you again. Or did you forget about that?]

Wade stiffened, his fingers going still over the keyboard as he stared at the tiny blinking cursor on the screen, frozen in the middle of a line of code. He _had_ forgotten. Just for a moment.

"All the more reason to tighten up the ship." Wade growled after a second, resuming his rapid-fire typing. Nothing was coming up yet, but he'd only gone through a little over half the possible sequences.

{Wherever we want to go, we go. That's what a ship is, you know.}

"Sure, but we're not going anywhere just now. We're sticking in New York, for as long as Spidey will have us."

{Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.}

"You got that right." Wade smiled to himself, remembering the way Spidey had leaned up against him, that gentle little kiss he'd pressing into Wade's chin, into his _skin_. God damn he was gonna jerk off _so hard_ after he dealt with this. "Wow, that's almost wise, Yellow. You goin' all philosophical on me?"

[I can't believe you just complimented him for quoting Captain Jack Sparrow.]

Wade blinked in surprise, his fingers faltering over the keys again. "Oh, shit. Really Yellow? Daaaaamn, that's so lame. Pirates of the Caribbean is so two thousand and three."

{I regret nothing. Ever.}

"Are you still doing it?" Wade shook his head. "You're still doing it, aren't you?"

{Hide the rum!}

[Too far. It's not funny anymore.]

{There is no such thing as too many Captain Jack Sparrow quotes.}

Wade was saved from having to come up with a suitable retort by the gentle blinking of a light on his computer screen. "Aha!" A signal had been detected. He opened up the source code and took a look. "Wow, that's ironic."

{What is?}

"This tech was made by Oscorp."

[Is that ironic… Or a clue?]

Wade frowned at the screen. "You think this is related? That they might be going after Spidey for the same reason?" That thought had dread dropping heavy in his stomach.

{No no no. They can't have Spidey. They can't! We can't let Weapon X get him!} Yellow's voice was high with panic.

Wade shook his head resolutely. "No. Never. We'll never let that happen." He dove deeper into the code, trying to get as many details out of it as he could. It was encrypted pretty well. Like, better than military grade, but Wade could still figure out where it was transmitting at least. Which only confirmed his fears, because it was transmitting to a private server at Oscorp. He pulled out his phone again to check if Spidey had tried to contact him, but no dice. "I'm definitely making him give me his number tomorrow."

[If he's not already gone. Snatched up and experimented on.]

Wade sucked in a harsh breath. "Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. Why the hell would you say that?"

White's only reply was silence. Wade might have spiraled then, because he felt like screaming at White until his throat ached and a bullet in his brain would be sweet relief, but a loud knock at the door interrupted him.

Wade palmed the tiny tracker off his coffee table and went to answer the door, fishing several large bills out of his pocket with his other hand. Moments later, he was staring at the ugly face of his least favorite pizza delivery guy. Wade had asked for him specifically, the guy who always made disgusted faces when Wade came to the door without his mask and muttered about psycho freaks when he _did_ wear his mask. Wade held out several hundred dollar bills, grinning to himself as he did so. The delivery guy grunted and tried to shift the ten (eleven?) pizzas into one hand so he could take the money. As the pizza's wobbled dangerously in the guy's unsteady grip, Wade reached out with his free hand to steady his arm. "Careful there!" He exclaimed cheerfully.

Once the money had exchanged hands, Wade took the pizzas and watched the delivery guy counting the bills with wide eyes. "Have a nice night!" Wade told him, gaze flickering to the tiny, nearly invisible spot of green on the asshole's sleeve.

"Sure… Whatever." Delivery boy muttered before turning and retreating down the hall. Wade watched him go, smile fading away.

[Spider-Man probably wouldn't approve.] White's voice was laced with venom.

Wade frowned. "Doesn't matter." It might buy him some time, even if it didn't solve anything in the long run. And if the dick pizza guy got tracked down and killed by the Green Goblin, well… That was on Wade. And he really didn't mind.

Wade kicked his door shut with one foot and threw the pizzas down on the cluttered kitchen counter, knocking off several old take-out containers and breaking what sounded like a ceramic plate. He didn't even know he owned real dishes. He grabbed the top box, not bothering to check what the toppings were, and went back to his laptop to start pulling up youtube videos of the goblin's two public appearances. He settled down to watch, pulling a slice of pineapple and sausage out of the box and rolling up his mask to start stuffing his mouth. It made him cringe to see the goblin throwing his poor Spidey around in Times Square, that feeling of helplessness and fear coming back even though it had been weeks ago now.

But he forced himself to watch, analyzing every move the villain made, how fast he was, how strong, how he thought. He would figure out this fucker's weaknesses, and how to exploit them. He would kill the bastard himself, or arm Spidey with all the tools he needed to put the goblin down like the dog he was.

He watched over and over and over and over. He watched until he could anticipate the villain's every move before he made it. It was almost noon by the time Wade finished up and dragged himself to bed to catch a few hours of sleep.

{And play with the old disco stick! We can't forget about that part.}

[I think that was assumed.]

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

By the time Wade was headed to meet Spider-Man again that night, he was half-convinced that White was right. The sullen box hadn't said anything else on the matter, but his words still chipped away at Wade's mind like a tiny pick axe until he was prepared to accept the possibility that Spidey had made a mistake, high on fear and emotional excess, and he would want to call the whole thing off as soon as they saw each other.

Even more pressing was Wade's concern that he wouldn't see Spidey at all. As in, he would be kidnapped and dead, or kidnapped and tortured, or just plain dead. Or… Just plain kidnapped.

[Any more combinations of those possibilities?]

{How about kidnapped, tortured, _and_ dead!}

"Whoa, guys. So not helping the situation. Ever heard the phrase 'silence is golden?' Or was that patience… Who fucking knows those pearls of wisdom are so overrated. Hey, how _do_ pearls grow in oysters? That's fucking weird." Wade twirled a knife anxiously between his fingers as he ducked down alleys and side streets, trying to find the least populated route to their usual meeting place. Any other day he'd be more than happy to skip through fucking Times Square singing Katy Perry at the top of his lungs (as he had done many times before), but now was not the time for shits and giggles. He was pretty sure he might end up slitting someone's throat just for looking at him wrong, and while that might be a fun and constructive way to take out his frustration and excess energy, he didn't think Spidey would approve.

"I'm gonna un-alive so many motherfuckers if Spidey isn't alright…" Wade muttered as he scaled the fire escape of the building next to the hotel. He couldn't even stand the thought. If Spidey wasn't okay… Well, he didn't know what he'd do.

{Reign down pain on everyone and everything that moves. Bleed this entire city. The whole fucking world. Make them all scream. Scream until they wished they were dead. Part their skin like tissue paper and make the streets run red. Splatter the walls of every room in every building with the scattered pieces of their hearts and brains. Burn them up. Slice them down. Fire and Blood.}

[Okay, Daenerys Targaryen. Cool it. You'd probably just shoot yourself in the head twenty thousand times until enough time passed that you forgot about the sneaky little wall crawler.]

Wade paused on the fire escape to hit himself several times in the head with the flat of his palm. None too gently. "Shut. The fuck. Up." He growled. "Not gonna happen, so don't even think about it."

[Since when have you been able to control what you think?]

Wade didn't answer. He just gritted his teeth and finished the long climb up to the roof. He took his time with his grappling hook after that, ignoring the fact that Yellow was humming U Can't Touch This in the background. It was still early, only about nine thirty, so he didn't expect Spidey to be there yet. Which was why he was dilly-dallying around; because he knew that as soon as he settled down to wait, he'd drive himself even more mental than he already was.

It was a surprise, then, to land on the hotel roof and almost immediately spot a familiar red and blue figure sitting with his back to Wade, legs dangling over the noisy city street below.

Wade went still, only moving to carefully tuck his grappling gun back into his belt (next to his third favorite handgun and a grenade he found under his pillow when he laid down earlier). He was pretty sure Spidey already knew he was there, since the kid had super hearing and also that crazy sixth sense of his.

{Can he see dead people?}

[Wrong movie.]

Even so, Spidey wasn't getting up or turning around to face him. Wade wasn't sure if that was bad news or not. Regardless, he was extremely relieved just to see his little spider here, all in one sexy piece. He took a couple of careful steps forward and came to stand next to an air vent.

{Quick; do something to look sexy!}

"What?" Wade muttered under his breath.

{Strike a pose or lean against something. Leaning is supposed to be sexy; we learned that on My So-Called Life.}

"Jared Leto was so hot in that… Even better than when he played the Joker or that sexy tranny in Dallas Buyers Club." Wade kept his voice low, chattering nervously even as he raised one arm and leaned against the air vent in a way that he supposed might say something like 'come hither and touch my sweet ass,' if the way he was sticking his hip out was any indication.

{He definitely had that smoldering puppy dog look down pat. So fuckable.}

[Not that I care, but maybe you wanna actually focus here?]

Wade cleared his throat, glanced down at himself, pulled out a pistol and held it casually over his crotch. He'd seen people do that in music videos and it always looked badass. He glanced up at Spidey and cleared his throat again. "Fancy meeting you here!" He called out.

[Wow. That was so smooth. If I had hands, I would applaud.]

{Oh, shut up. Ryan Reynolds can make anything look hot.}

Spidey was obviously not startled, so he had probably been aware of the mercenary's presence the entire time. Wade might have been embarrassed, except that he was kind of used to it at this point. Having many of your internal thought conversations spoken aloud was a good way to desensitize anyone to some light humiliation. Spidey turned around to look at him, his body twisting in a delicious way as he gracefully spun up onto his feet. Wade caught a quiet, breathy chuckle escaping from Spidey's mouth, and he grinned under his Deadpool mask.

"Hey." Spider-Man greeted almost shyly, stepping forward a bit but hesitating to close the distance between them. Wade took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling more nervous than before. Was Spidey acting weird? Was he keeping his distance because he'd changed his mind about Deadpool and he was just trying to think of the nicest way to say it?

"Hey." He repeated lamely, quickly tucking away his gun because he remembered that Spidey didn't like guns.

[Idiot. Of course he wouldn't think guns are sexy.]

{But… they _are_ sexy.}

[To us.]

{Not to everyone? That's strange.}

Spidey cleared his throat and inched his way closer, until there were only a couple of feet left between them. "Hey." He repeated again, much more softly this time. His mask was focused downwards, hands clasped together in front of him, and Wade thought it might look like he was biting his lip under that thin spandex fabric.

Wade swallowed, stomach filling with pleasant warm butterflies at the sight of just how fucking adorable his little spider was. "Yes. We said that already." He replied gently, hand slipping off the air vent so he was standing up straight again.

He watched Spidey nod a little, hands fidgeting in front of him for a moment before falling away. There was a tiny little huff of breath and then the hero was stepping forward, closing the space between them. His masked lips pressed down over Wade's too light and quick, almost clumsy, before he pulled away again. And then he took a full step back, hurried as if he were afraid that Wade might push him away. Wade stared, wide-eyed at Spidey's mask, heart jumping in his chest.

Yellow squealed. {Eeeeeeeeeh oh em gee our Spidey-boy is too goddamn cute I just want to eat him up!}

"He does like us." Wade breathed, watching Spidey scuffing one toe against the ground like he was the cutest little school boy in the whole fucking world.

[He _is_ a schoolboy. Still sixteen. Barely.]

{I know, isn't that so hot?}

Wade cleared his throat. "Spidey." The young hero looked up, white eye patches meeting, Spider-Man to Deadpool. Wade reached out and stepped in, fingers curling around the bottom edge of Spidey's mask to lift it carefully up to his nose, noticing as the teenager's breath hitched lightly. Then he lifted his own mask to his nose, pulse pounding in his ears. One arm wrapped around Spidey's slim waist to pull him close, the other hand curling gently around the back of his warm little neck. "Baby Boy…" He breathed, and watched Spidey shiver.

Wade leaned in to kiss him, lips meeting hungrily, greedily. He loved the way Spidey's arms slid up to wrap around his neck, pressing the boy's body flush against his. Wade kept it slow and gentle, leisurely licking his way into that wet, warm little piece of heaven to get another taste. Spidey practically melted against him, whimpering softly into the kiss, and god wasn't that just the hottest fucking thing? He was so _responsive_. He was gonna drive Wade absolutely wild if he kept clinging to him like that, pressing closer and sliding his dexterous little tongue into all the right places.

Wade pulled away with a light nip to Spidey's bottom lip, earning him a quiet gasp and a gentle press of a quickly hardening length into his thigh. Wade suppressed a groan, stroking his hand down the back of Spidey's head and neck in a repetitive petting motion, soothing him out of it. The hero let his head fall onto Wade's collarbone, and Wade listened to him breathing for a few seconds. "You okay, Baby Boy?"

Spidey nodded into his shoulder, automatically knowing what Wade meant. "Yeah." He whispered, then cleared his throat to speak more normally. "I'm fine. No sign of him yet."

"That's good." He let his hand slip down to wrap both arms securely around Spidey's waist, holding him close and just reveling in the feeling of having him here, in his arms. It filled Wade with such warmth and happiness that he thought he might cry. And he almost hated the feeling, because there was no way in hell it could last. This kind of thing just didn't happen to Deadpool. He didn't deserve it, and never got to keep it. But he still couldn't help this feeling… Whatever it was.

{We love him.} Yellow stated simply.

Wade swallowed past a lump in his throat and nodded imperceptibly, ignoring White's silent seething. And if that made him hold Spidey even closer, almost crushing the poor boy against him, well… It was only because he knew this was temporary, and he was going to hold on to his Baby Boy for as long as he could have him.

After a few more precious moments, Wade loosened his hold, allowing Spidey to lift his head and step back just a little, the mercenary's arms still latched loosely around his waist. "I did some research." Wade said gently. "Are you ready to talk about that?"

Spider-Man nodded. "Yeah, let's um… Let's sit?"

Wade reluctantly released Spidey from his hold and followed him over to the edge of the roof, where they both dropped to the ground and dangled their legs over the edge. Wade's breath caught when Spidey took his hand and interlaced their fingers together. It took him a moment to remember what they were going to talk about. "Right, so… We found out where the tracker was transmitting data. It was a private server at Oscorp."

[Which is also where Weapon X is rising from the ashes, coincidentally.]

"Not helpful right now." Wade hissed. "There wasn't much else to get out of it… As far as I can tell, it was turned on since about seven o'clock the night before last."

"He was waiting for me." Spidey murmured, shoulders tensing. And god, Wade wanted to rip that nasty green bitch apart limb by limb and spill his blood all across the city for going after his Baby Boy. Spidey cleared his throat and shook his head. "That doesn't tell us anything about who it could be. Oscorp rents out server space to anyone who has the money to pay for it."

Wade nodded, his chest tightening slightly with helplessness because they weren't any closer to identifying the bastard. Maybe if he went to some of his underground contacts…The ones he only used when he had to locate a particularly crafty mark. He'd do that tomorrow, see what he could turn up. Wade began to subconsciously stroke his gloved thumb across the back of Spidey's hand. "I studied up on the videos of the goblin's public appearances. He's a youtube star now, by the way. How fucking lame is that?" Spidey let out a short chuckle, and Wade smiled. "Anyway, I think we can say for sure that he's a super. Definitely not just human."

Spidey nodded thoughtfully, staring off into the distance. "He's too strong. And fast. Faster than me."

Wade shook his head emphatically. "Not _faster_ than you. He's not. I can tell. You're just not used to fighting anyone that can keep up with you."

Spidey glanced sideways at him and the set of his mouth was incredulous. "You're just saying that to be nice or something. He _beat me_ , Pool. Badly."

Wade was already shaking his head emphatically. "No. Stop that, Spidey. I wouldn't lie to you about that shit and you know it." His tone softened when he saw Spidey glance down sheepishly. "He's not faster than you. Or stronger. You hold back when you fight. I know you have to with the normies you're usually webbing up, so you don't accidentally kill them or whatever, but it's a bad habit in this case. He only seems faster than you because you rely on your spider sense too much. You only move that fast when your body tells you to. You need to learn how to control it and use it when you're _not_ about to get hit by a bullet or one of those stupid Batman throwing knives."

{It would be so much cooler if we got to kill Batman…}

Spidey stared up at Wade, lips parted slightly in surprise. "How do you know all that?"

Wade glanced down at their joined hands and hoped that his next words wouldn't sound too creepy. "I watch you a lot."

[Right. That's totally not stalker-ish at all.]

Wade sighed. "And, um, I watched the videos of you and the less attractive Green Lantern like a hundred times last night." He raised his gaze to Spidey's mask and stared into where his eyes should be. "I can help you beat him. You just need to practice not holding back."

{Oooooor we could just kill the green guy ourselves and solve all of Spidey's problems!}

Wade turned his head away to hiss under his breath. "Shut it. We can't be with him all the time. And he wouldn't want us to anyway."

{Spoilsport. Don't you think he'd forgive all that if we successfully got rid of the psycho super who's trying to kill and/or kidnap him?}

Spidey squeezed Wade's hand, pulling his attention back to him again. "That's really nice of you, Red. And it's helpful to know that stuff. But how am I supposed to practice not holding back while I fight? I can't exactly ask Thor to stop by and spar with me."

A slow grin spread across Wade's mouth. "Oh, Baby Boy. You've got your own personal highly skilled practice dummy right here, ready and willing. _And_ I can't even get hurt!"

Spidey's mouth was turning down into a cute little frown. "You can still get hurt, even if it's not permanent. I don't want to hurt you, Deadpool."

Wade laughed. "It's cute that you think you could hurt me, Spidey." His voice lowered. "But you've never seen me fight. Not really."

He watched Spidey shiver slightly, and couldn't help the slight tightening in his groin area. Maybe this wasn't his best idea after all…

{Nonsense. This is going to be so much fun!}

[It's not supposed to be fun.]

{Sure it is! You just don't like fun. Because you're a party pooper.}

"I… Guess we could try." Spidey didn't sound too sure about that, but Wade would take what he could get.

"Great!" He sprung to his feet, easily pulling Spidey up with him. The kid weighed like fifty pounds soaking wet. "Let's start right now."

"Now? Here?"

"Why not?" Wade shrugged, glancing around the spacious, empty rooftop. "Better to start as soon as possible, so you're ready whenever he might come for you."

Spidey seemed taken aback by that, but he nodded slowly. "Yeah… You're right. Okay, then."

"Of course I'm right." Wade grinned. "I'm always right. Haven't you learned that about me?" Spidey laughed softly, and it was all worth it just to hear that sound. Wade let go of his little spider's hand, albeit reluctantly, and started pulling things from his belt. He set knife after knife on the ground at the edge of the roof. "I brought a few dulled blades so we can practice with those. Wouldn't want to slice you up on accident."

{No… Only on purpose. God, I bet his blood tastes so sweet, like sugar and maple syrup.}

[It would taste sweeter if we were licking it off the walls…]

Wade swallowed, placing the last real knife at the end of his line, now counting close to twenty. He started laying down his guns next, taking the ones from his hip and leg holsters first, then pulling them from less conventional places like his boots and katana straps. "No guns for today. I don't think the goblin uses them, but I have rubber bullets if you ever want to practice with those later." Then he went through his pouches, pulling out a few ninja stars, a pair of nun chucks, brass knuckles, his grappling gun, a garrote wire, and two… no, three grenades. "Don't want to practice with those!" He laughed to himself. "A little too much bang for your buck, if you know what I mean." Lastly, he carefully slung his babies off his back and lay them down at the end of the line, patting them gently as if he were tucking them into bed. "Don't worry." He whispered to them. I'll let you out to play later." He stood up straight and patted himself down, checking that he only had dulled knives on him now. "Oh! I almost forgot." He angled his body away from Spidey and shoved a hand down his pants, carefully slipping his last tiny knife out of its super-secret hiding place.

{Shhhhhh no one saw that.}

Wade cleared his throat and turned back to Spidey, clapping his hands together. "Alrighty then. Let's get started!"

Spider-Man was staring at him, dumbfounded, mouth hanging open in utter shock and awe.

Wade blinked at him. "What?"

Spidey managed to close his mouth, shaking his head as he gestured towards the extensive stockpile of weaponry now laid out on the roof. "What… How… Where did all that even come from?"

Wade grinned. "A magician never reveals his secrets, love! Just kidding. They came from my belt, duh! And some pockets in my suit. Oh, and my boots. And straps and such. I've learned how to get creative."

Spidey just shook his head again, clearly still having trouble believing that Wade had managed to hide so many dangerous objects on his person. "Right… Um, okay. Let's start, I guess." He took a few steps backwards, leading them towards the middle of the roof, and Wade followed. They came to stand a couple of yards away from each other, Spidey looking like he wasn't exactly sure what he should be doing with himself.

Wade sighed and silently hoped that it wouldn't be too hard to get the hero to loosen up and actually put some effort into this. He'd have to show Spidey that he wasn't easily hurt. "Okay, let's start simple so you can get over your silly little fear of hurting me." Spidey frowned, but Wade hurried on before he could protest. "Just try to hit me, okay? Doesn't have to be hard at first. And no webs yet. Just try to land a punch."

Spider-Man nodded slowly and raised his fists, like a cute little boxer. "Alright." He acquiesced, and Wade knew he'd be holding back. Which meant that Deadpool could not. He had to prove that he could take Spider-Man, no holds barred.

[Here we go…]

{Eeh, I'm so excited! Finally fighting someone that might be a bit of a challenge!}

Wade had to admit that he was a little excited too. So it was easy, when Spidey darted forward to aim a weak punch at his cheek, to duck under the kid's arm and kick out at his back, knocking Spider-Man roughly onto his hands and knees.

Spidey looked over his shoulder at Deadpool, lips parted in surprise. "Again." Wade demanded, not allowing himself to feel bad for knocking his boy down. If he tried harder, it wouldn't even be an issue. And that was his goal, after all.

Spidey leapt to his feet, hesitating for a second before attacking again. This time he feinted to one side before aiming a hit at the other. Wade dodged easily, knocking Spidey's fist aside with the flat of his hand and spinning to kick the hero in the chest, knocking him backwards several feet. "Again."

Spidey ran forward and flipped over Wade, swinging at him as soon as he landed. Wade dropped to a crouch and swept one leg out, trying to knock Spidey's feet out from under him. Spidey jumped out of the way. Wade didn't stop moving, allowing his momentum to spin him back up and around, grabbing onto Spidey's arm and twisting it behind his back, immobilizing him. Wade paused for a moment, leaning in to breath against the little spider's ear. "You're not even trying. Again."

{Oh my god. This is so hot.}

Spider-Man grunted slightly and broke out of Wade's hold, finally using a bit of his super strength to do so. He aimed a kick at Wade's stomach. Wade dodged. Spidey struck out at his face, faster than before. Wade dodged. He didn't have a spidey sense to help him out, but he had pretty fantastic reflexes. Spidey let loose a series of kicks and punches, trying to land something, anything, on Deadpool. Wade dodged or blocked them all, a grin forming on his mouth as they danced together in a flurry of beautiful violence, each step perfectly coordinated. Finally, Wade caught hold of one of Spidey's wrists, got his other hand around that pretty little neck, kicked one of his feet out from under him, and slammed the hero down onto his back, straddling his hips and hooking his boots over Spidey's thighs to pin him down.

He stared down at the little spider, still grinning predatorily. They were both breathing a little more heavily than usual, and Wade watched as a dark red flush spread up Spidey's neck and jaw. Wade loosened his grip on that neck, smile fading as he felt the pounding of Spidey's pulse under his fingers. He started to lean back, ready to get off the boy so they could start again.

All of a sudden, Spidey's hands were at the back of his head and his mouth was attacking Wade's, angry and desperate, all tongue and teeth and need and Spidey was pressing up into him and pulling him down at the same time, forcing them closer together. He managed to slip his legs out from under Wade's restraint and hooked his knees over Wade's hips, pulling them down onto his. Wade let out a moan, surprised and turned on beyond reason. Spidey's hands slid down to claw at the front of his Deadpool's suit, fisting it in his fingers as if he wanted to tear it off, his mouth working with abandon to consume Wade's, and his head swam pleasantly with heat and pleasure. Wade deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue over Spidey's in a filthy way that had them both moaning breathlessly into it. Spidey thrust his hips up against Wade's, pressing their hardening lengths together, and Wade shuddered at the contact. His hands slipped down Spidey's body to grip at his hips, holding them still as he ground down, causing the hero to break their kiss, gasping and making these obscene little whining noises as he tried desperately to move against Wade.

"Fuck." Wade groaned, dropping his head down into Spidey's neck. "Oh fucking hell…" He pressed his thumbs into Spidey's hip bones, so hard he thought they might bruise, and forced himself to still his hips. "Shit, we should… Mm, pause, Baby Boy. Just hold… Hold on."

Spidey made a sound of protest, one hand tugging at the back of Wade's mask until he could lift his head and crash their mouths together again, resuming their urgent kiss. "Need you…" He mumbled into it, thrusting his hips up even though Wade was pinning them down with almost all his strength, and fuck that was so hot… Wade moaned, desire laced with frustration, but he forced himself to pull away after a few moments, panting softly and absolutely aching for more.

{No no no no no don't stop don't stop don't stop}

He ignored Yellow and propped himself up on his elbows, not pulling away but allowing a bit of distance between their faces. "We should… Just… We need, um…" Spidey looked up at him, biting down on his bottom lip, and Wade felt a sudden, desperate longing to see his eyes. To take that mask off and dispel the layer between them, to see the look in his eyes, to see how he looked at Deadpool… He swallowed, and tried to focus. "You're still young, and-"

Spidey grunted in frustration and slung both his arms around Wade's neck. "I thought we covered that. I'm not a kid. I'm not as innocent as people might think." As if to prove himself, Spidey started trailing wet little kisses over the skin of Wade's neck, causing the mercenary's eyes to flutter shut.

Wade licked his lips. "No, I… It's not that. You're just a lot less experienced than me in… this area, and I don't want us to move too fast." Spidey scoffed, the rush of air across Wade's dampened skin making him shiver. "Well, you're a virgin, aren't you?" Spidey fell silent, and when Wade blinked down at him he could see that beautiful skin flushing a darker shade. He grinned and leaned down to press a kiss into the corner of the teenager's mouth. "It's not a problem, Baby Boy." His voice lowered. "In fact, it's hot as fuck…" Spidey shivered, and Wade resisted the urge to eat him alive here and now. "It's just that we need to set up some rules."

Spidey blinked up at him, throat moving slightly as he swallowed. "Rules?"

Wade nodded. "Have you heard of the color system?"

If it was possible, Spidey's skin flushed even darker than it already was. "Yeah." He breathed.

{Oooh, our little spider has done some research! How hot is that…}

"Good." Wade smiled. "Green means good to go. Yellow if we're moving too fast or anything feels uncomfortable at all. Red stops everything, no questions asked. Got it?" Spidey nodded. "Good boy. We'll set up a safe word later, but this should be fine for now."

Spidey squirmed underneath him and Wade's smile widened into a grin. "You like that, Baby Boy?" Spidey's breath rushed out in a huff, and he pressed his hips up into Wade's again, fingers grasping at the back of his neck. He was hard as fuck. Wade moaned, dropping his head to nip at Spidey's bare neck. "You're so fucking needy for me, aren't you Spidey?" The light whimper and a desperate roll of his hips were answer enough. Wade slid a hand down to finger the edge of Spidey's suit shirt and slip underneath, palm skimming over the hard muscle of his stomach. "Color?" Wade breathed against his skin, testing him.

Spidey sucked in a broken breath and clutched at the back of Wade's suit. "Green." He choked out, voice already sounding wrecked. Wade hummed against his neck and began sucking small bruises into his skin. He was sure they'd be gone by the morning, but it still satisfied something needy and possessive inside of him to mark Spidey as his own.

"Good." He murmured, stroking his hand over Spidey's stomach and down his side, slipping one thumb under the waistband of his suit pants. He thrust down a couple of times before pulling their hips apart, having to practically pry Spider-Man's legs off him in order to slide down so he could press wet, open-mouthed kisses into the smooth skin of his stomach, one hand landing lightly on Spidey's hard cock, straining against the tight spandex. "Now?"

The hero's breath was coming in short, shallow gasps as one hand gripped at the back of Wade's head, the other landing on his shoulder. "G-Green… Green." Wade hummed again and licked across tight, smooth abs, precome dampening his own suit as he stroked his fingers lightly, teasingly over Spidey's length. Spidey let out a low moan, thrusting shallowly into Wade's hand, and for a moment Wade found himself wondering if this was real, or a wonderful hallucination.

{Does it matter? Jesus fuck this is so perfect we should never ever stop.}

No. It didn't matter. Wade scraped his teeth over perfect skin and pressed his palm down, rubbing more firmly and Spidey gasped and writhed, the perfect picture of lust and need and gods, Wade was gonna come in his pants again. He curled his fingers over the top of Spidey pants and pulled them down just an inch. "Color?"

Spidey whined. "Please… Please, Pool…" Wade shuddered, but didn't move forward.

"Color?" He demanded again. Not because he didn't think Spidey was being clear, but… He needed to make sure the boy understood the system. Needed to train him to know that he wouldn't get what he wanted if he didn't follow the rules.

"Green!" Spidey gasped, hands tightening their grip on Wade. "Fuck, green, please." Wade let out a shaky breath and pulled Spidey's pants down, the teenager lifting his hips to help the process along. His dick slipped free of its restraints and Wade thought two mind-blowing things at the exact same time. First, Spidey didn't wear underwear under his suit. Second, he had the most beautiful dick Wade had ever seen. It was well-sized, though not huge, and perfectly proportioned. Wade's mouth watered and his own dick twitched in his suit.

"You could be a dick model." He breathed, and Spidey let out a breathless chuckle, cut short by a moan as Wade wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock. He still had his gloves on, so he kept his grip light as he slid his fingers up, then back down that beautiful length. Spidey shuddered hard, his fingers digging into Wade's shoulder and the back of his skull. "Color?" Wade breathed, voice shaky as he leaned in to flick his tongue lightly over Spider-Man's tip.

Spidey cried out softly, body tensing and shaking as he thrust his hips up towards Wade's mouth. Wade drew back, licking his lips and waiting for the magic word. "Green fuck oh my god green please, D-Deadpool, green…"

Wade shivered, his free hand landing on Spidey's hip as he swallowed hard, heat pooling in his stomach. "You can call me Wade." He murmured, squeezing lightly around Spidey's cock.

Spidey gasped. "Wade." He breathed, tone reverent and desperate all at once. "Wade, fuck, Wade…" The name tumbled from his lips as if it had been sitting on the tip of his tongue, as if he'd been waiting to say it.

Wade groaned, almost tumbling over the edge when Spidey said his name like that. "Yeah, Baby Boy… Say my name. I love it when you say my name." He leaned forward, sinking his lips over Spidey's cock and taking it down all at once.

Spidey cried out again, back arching off the rooftop as he tipped his head back. "Wade! Oh my god Wade oh my god." Wade moaned, hallowing out his cheeks and sucking lightly. He stroked his tongue over the underside of Spidey's length as he pulled up slightly and sunk back down again. "Ah… Fuck Wade…" Spidey sounded close to the edge, voice shaking as he thrust shallowly into Wade's mouth. And fuck, Wade was right there with him. The taste of him, warm and salty and perfect and the way he said his _name_ … Wade wasn't going to last long either.

He removed his hand from Spidey's hip and shoved it into his own pants, moaning lightly as he wrapped his fingers around himself and shivered at the feeling of leather on his sensitive skin. He set up a quick rhythm, bobbing over Spidey's dick and sucking lightly, each whimper and gasp falling from the hero's lips sending sparks of fire through his veins. It didn't take long until Spidey was tensing up, his hand pulling at Wade's mask in warning as he choked out his name. Wade moaned and shoved his mouth down until his lips brushed the skin at Spidey's base, the head of his cock pressed against Wade's throat.

"Wade! Fuck, Wa- Ah… Wade…" Spidey thrust in as he came, his whole body shuddering as he shot hot and heavy into Wade's throat. Wade whimpered, heat flashing through him at the sensation, and pleasure sunk into his fucking _bones_ as Spidey called out his name. He tipped over the edge with a jolt, spilling inside his pants once again.

When his orgasm finally faded away, Wade pulled off Spidey's cock as gently as he could, suppressing a shiver as the young hero whimpered, fallen totally lax against the rooftop. He slipped his hand from his pants and wiped it carelessly off on his thigh, crawling forward to press a kiss into Spidey's flushed cheek. His lips were parted and his breath was heavy. God, he looked so hot like this…

"I could just eat you up." Wade breathed.

Spidey chuckled. "Now's not the time for quoting Where the Wild Things Are, Wade."

Wade stared down at Spidey, his chest suddenly feeling tight, like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

{He's so perfect. He's perfect for us, Wade. Let's keep him. We need to keep him and never let him go. I don't care if we have to tie him up and keep him in our closet, we _need him_.}

[If we really love him, we'll let him go.]

Wade swallowed against the burning in his throat, blinking hard under the mask as he reached down to very carefully, very gently pull Spidey's pants back up and tuck his shirt down into its proper place. "Baby Boy…" Wade smoothed his hands over Spidey's chest, his voice thick. "It's always the time for that."

Spidey chuckled again, low and deliciously relaxed, and tugged on Wade's arms until he'd maneuvered the mercenary into lying down beside him, head resting on the hero's shoulder. Spidey wrapped his other arm lightly around Wade's chest and held him there. Wade froze, his heart beginning to pound. It was too much, just… Just lying here. Being… Being held. Wade was afraid he might start crying. Or something worse. So he shifted slightly, not allowing himself to get comfortable, and took a deep breath.

"So… I guess you like it when I pin you down, huh?"

{Way to ruin the moment.}

[Shut up. He had to.]

Now Spidey was the one squirming in discomfort, an adorable little huff of a sigh passing through his lips.

"It's okay, Baby Boy." Wade grinned, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at Spidey. "I like it. I like all sorts of stuff. In fact, I'm what you might call a kink collector."

{Don't scare the poor boy.}

"Just kidding! I mean, kind of. Not really. Nothing too crazy. I mean… Well… Okay pretty much anything can turn me on, but don't let that freak you out. I just mean… Shut up." The boxes hadn't even said anything, but Wade could practically hear them thinking it. "Anyway. My point is that it's hot as fuck and you shouldn't be embarrassed. Now how about we go back to practicing your fighting skills? Because I think that went really well."

Spidey grinned and shook his head in amusement, sitting up next to Wade and stretching his arms over his head. Wade watched, getting half hard again simply thinking about the fact that he had just sucked Spidey's dick. On a goddamn rooftop. Maybe he really was hallucinating. "What time is it?" Spidey asked.

Wade sat up too and looked at his watch. It was a Disney Princess watch because his Hello Kitty one had gotten smashed in a fight with a drug dealer and Spider-Man had only let him wail about it for two minutes and he _didn't_ even get to kill the asshole who was responsible. Anyway. "Ten thirty."

Spidey sighed. "Actually, I kind of have to walk my, um, family member home from work in about an hour. So we should probably patrol."

Wade frowned. "I think making sure you're prepared for this bitch goblin takes precedence over stopping a few robberies, Spidey."

Spidey shook his head as he got to his feet, mouth immediately settling into a hard line. "No." He said firmly. "It doesn't. Saving people is always the first priority."

Wade's frown deepened as he stood, gaining a few inches on the little spider. "That's bullshit. You can't save people if you don't take care of yourself first."

Spidey scowled. "I can't shirk my responsibilities just to practice fighting, which I _already_ know how to do pretty well, thank you very much, for just one extra hour. That's an hour I could spend saving someone from being robbed. Or getting raped. Or killed."

Wade let out his breath in a hiss, fists clenching at his sides. "You're too noble for your own good." He muttered. But he lowered his gaze and gave in anyway. "Fine. But we're practicing again tomorrow. And I will _not_ tolerate you half-assing it because you're afraid to hurt me. You can't hurt me." Not in that way, anyhow. Wade turned and starting walking towards his extensive pile of weapons to return them all to their rightful places, silently seething that he didn't even get to use the dull knives he'd brought especially for this.

Spider-Man stopped him with a hand on his arm, trailing down until he could tangle his fingers with Wade's. The mercenary's breath caught in his throat as Spidey pulled him into a gentle hug. "I promise I won't." He pressed his face into Wade's chest and Wade wondered if he could hear his heart beating. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be fine. I won't hold back next time." Wade knew he didn't mean with him. "I'll remember what you said and I'll be okay." Wade nodded stiffly, his hands rising to rest on Spidey's back, holding him there for just a moment.

"I know." He mumbled. Spidey pulled back and leaned up to press the sweetest kiss to Wade's lips, stealing his breath away. Then he released the man completely and stepped away, only to land a sharp, open-palmed slap to Wade's ass.

"Now go get all your toys so we can get to work." Spidey was grinning, and Wade stared at him for a moment, mouth hanging open in shock.

He recovered relatively quickly, sucking in a gasp and slapping his hands to his cheeks in surprise. "Oh, Spidey! You naughty dog, you. I left my dildos and vibrators at home. But I'm sure we can improvise." He grinned in satisfaction as he spotted that telltale flush spreading over Spidey's skin. He skipped away to his weapons and started gathering them up, slipping them quickly and precisely into all the right places, being especially careful with the knife he kept in his super-secret hiding spot…

Spider-Man was standing beside him when he finished, smiling at him in a fond sort of way that made Wade's chest ache. "Ready?" He asked.

Wade nodded. "Oh, wait!" He reached out and rolled Spidey's mask back down, pausing only long enough to slide his thumb across that beautiful bottom lip before it disappeared behind the sinful red fabric.

Spidey reached out to do the same for him, and Wade had to suppress a shiver as the boy slid his fingers over the scars that covered his jaw and mouth, gentle and feather light. Then he rolled the mask down and Wade took a shaky breath. "Okay. Now we're ready."

They only stopped one drunken fight behind a bar, not catching any more crimes in the next hour. And it totally wasn't because they stopped to make out in the dark corner of an alley. Twice.

{So fucking worth it.}

Wade didn't get Spidey to give him his phone number, but he _did_ make him promise to text him as soon as he got home safely.

He did, about an hour later, and Wade could breath again. He saved the strange number (not a New York area code; probably a random number assigned by one of those texting apps) under "Baby Boy 3" and responded with about a hundred X's and O's. Spidey didn't text him back, but that was okay. The boy was probably exhausted.

[Or he wants to keep this professional.]

That was okay, too. Spidey hadn't given him his number for personal usage; only to let Wade know that he was safe. Wade could respect that.

He sat in front of his good laptop in the safe house he'd been in earlier that day, eating leftover pizza (which had just been sitting on the kitchen counter since he ordered it, but Wade figured it wouldn't go bad that fast) and trying to hack into the second most secure server system in the country.

The Iron Dick had the most secure.

{Fuck wad.}

SHIELD had the third, and the U.S. government had the fourth. Wade had plenty of experience hacking into both of those systems. Oscorp, on the other hand, was proving to be a bit of a challenge.

"Fucking shit dicks in hell why would anyone put up ten fucking Ouroboros safeguards in row? This would take weeks to crack if I worked fucking nonstop."

[That's why. Obviously.]

"They must have a shit ton of firepower to keep operating like this. I mean just the RAM required to uphold such a ridiculously redundant operation…"

{We'll need to find another way.}

Wade sighed in heavy frustration and shoved the useless laptop away from him, knocking over a few beer bottles onto the ground.

[…We _do_ know someone who works at Oscorp…]

Wade frowned. "You want to use Peter?"

{Ooh, good idea! I miss that cute piece of ass.}

Wade shook his head. "No. No way. I'm not getting him mixed up in this. He's _innocent_."

[He wouldn't get hurt.] White urged craftily, voice silky smooth and soothing. [He wouldn't even know what we were up to. We could just drop by for a friendly visit, slip a little virus onto his work computer… Totally untraceable. He'd be fine.]

Wade tapped his fingers restlessly against his thigh, thinking it over. "I'm not taking any risks with him. If it looks like things might not turn out squeaky clean, if there's even a _whiff_ of danger for Peter, we're out."

[Sounds fine to me.]

{Yeah, good plan!}

Wade sighed, pulling up Peter's texts on his phone. If he was being honest with himself, he missed the kid too. It'd be nice to see him again.

 **heyyyyy petey pie**  
 **wanna hang after school 2day?**

Even though it was almost one in the morning, Peter responded in less than two minutes.

 **I'd love to, but I have to work :(**  
 **We could do breakfast? At like 7 if that's not too early for you.**

{Awwwww so sweet! He's like a little Peter Rabbit.}

Wade furrowed his brow in confusion. They'd never done that before. But sooner was probably better, so he wasn't going to question his luck too much.

 **damn thats early**  
 **fine 4 me but wont u loose ur precious sleep time?**  
 **growing boys need their rest ;)**

Peter responded almost instantly this time.

 **Yeah. But I want to see you.**

Wade stared down at his phone in surprise. Peter… wanted to see him? That much? He would rearrange his life just to see Wade at the crack of dawn on a Monday? He frowned slightly, confused by the sudden rush of warmth he felt towards the kid. No one had gone out of their way to spend time with him like that in years… No one but Spidey.

 **ok u name the place i'll b there**

 **Cheryl's Diner on 80th and Madison?**

Wade sighed, already feeling a little guilty about what he was planning to do.

 **see u then bb**

Guilt wouldn't stop him though. Not so long as Peter remained safe and naïve to the whole thing. He needed to get access to Oscorp's files. He needed to know who was using the Green Goblin's server. And he needed to know what the corporation had from Weapon X, what they were doing with it, and what they were planning.

{Watch out Os-creep. Here we fucking come.}

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wade got to the restaurant early. It might have been surprising, since he wasn't exactly a punctual person, but he hadn't slept much last night and he'd been lying in bed staring at the ceiling at six, so he said what the fuck and headed over ahead of time. Let's be honest; Wade didn't sleep well on a normal day. And last night he'd been particularly distracted by murderous thoughts about Oscorp and the Green Goblin (mostly fueled by White) and sexy thoughts about Spidey (equally fueled by Yellow and Wade). He'd also given his right hand some exercise (several times) since memories of Spidey's perfect dick in his mouth just wouldn't leave his head. He didn't really mind that part.

He scanned the diner through its front windows, looking for Peter's head full of sexily messy brown hair, but he didn't spot him yet. He didn't go in and get a table like a normal person might have. Giant, disfigured and dangerous looking men garnered a lot of attention when they entered someplace alone. There would be less stares when he came in with Peter, or if he could come in and immediately sit with Peter. Apparently people saw you as less dangerous if you were seen with someone else, as if the simple act of interacting with another person meant that you weren't a deranged loser loner who could kill someone without batting an eye. Whatever. So Wade skulked across the street, hiding behind a newspaper stand, and kept an eye out for Peter.

He glanced down self-consciously at his red Spider-Man sweatshirt and jeans, never quite comfortable in civilian clothes these days. He wondered what Spidey was doing right now. Headed to school, maybe. Or just waking up. He wondered what Spidey looked like getting out of bed in the morning, hair mussed from the pillow and eyes still heavy with sleep. Wade couldn't help but picture Spidey with hair like Peter's. He wasn't sure why; Spider-Man could have blond hair. Or no hair at all.

{Oh my god he has _hair_. Of course he has hair. Soft, thick hair. Hair that we could sink our fingers into. Like Peter's.}

Wade hummed in agreement and reached for the nearest paper just to have something to pretend to look at. The front page sported a sickening picture of Tony I-eat-dicks-for-breakfast Stark at the ribbon cutting ceremony for some uppity orphanage for underprivileged gay kids or something. He was even holding a literal giant pair of scissors. Wade didn't hold back from making a loud retching sound and throwing the paper back on the rack. The elderly gentleman running the stand gave Wade a very dirty look. Wade just stuck his tongue out and picked up a magazine with Ryan Reynolds on the front.

{Mm… hot stuff.}

"If we fucked Ryan Reynolds, would that be like incest? Or… Self-cest? I don't know what the term for that would be."

[Maybe just masturbation?]

"Ooh, yeah, that makes sense. Clever." He tossed the confused looking salesman a hundred-dollar bill and slid the magazine into his hoodie pocket, glancing across the street to check for Peter. Sure enough, there he was, arriving with impeccable timing.

{Thanks, writers!}

Wade couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched Peter skating down the sidewalk, easily weaving his way through the early morning foot traffic. He was looking as sexy as ever in plain blue jeans, ripped a bit at the knees, a simple NASA t-shirt and red zip-up jacket. Black framed glasses and a worn blue backpack completed his school-boy hipster nerd look and rounded out the image to utter perfection. And his hair… It was a fucking mess. A beautiful fucking mess. Wade shook his head to himself as Peter came to a stop in front of the diner, flipping the board up into his hand with ease. Wade glanced sideways for a break in the traffic and started crossing the street, figuring it would be less awkward to enter together.

Peter seemed to hesitate at the door for a moment before glancing behind himself and catching sight of Wade. The wide, happy smile that spread across Peter's face when he saw the man made Wade's heart stutter. What the hell had he done to make Peter look at him like that?

"Hey." He greeted when he had stepped onto the sidewalk beside the boy, unable to help the small smile that spread across his face in return.

"Hey, W-Wade." Peter ducked his head, a light flush spreading over his lovely, lightly freckled cheeks.

Wade raised an eyebrow (or, the place where his eyebrow would be if he had those). "What's up, Pete? Did my name do something to offend you?"

"No." Peter chuckled, as if that were particularly funny. "No, not at all." He didn't offer any more details on the matter, just gestured at the diner doors. "Wanna go in? I have to leave for school in like forty-five minutes. I mean, I'm always almost late for first period so it's not that big of a deal, but… You know. School's important, or whatever."

Wade laughed lightly. "Yeah, sure. Stay in school, just say no, use a condom. All that jazz." He stepped forward to open the door, holding it so Peter could walk in first.

Peter grinned as he entered, ducking under Wade's raised arm to pass through the doorway. "That's great advice, Wade. Did you learn that on an infomercial?"

"Sesame Street, actually. Only educational tv you ever need to watch. I learned everything I know from the Street."

Peter led them to a table in the back and Wade slid into the seat facing the rest of the restaurant, a safety habit he could never quite shake. "I believe it." Peter said, shit-eating grin still plastered over his face as he looked at Wade.

Wade smiled back, confused but somewhat tickled by all the positive attention.

[Why is he looking at you like that?]

{Shut up, it's nice. He likes us.}

[No one _likes_ us…]

{Spidey does.}

Wade cleared his throat and picked up his menu from the table, desperate for some distraction before Yellow and White started fighting. "What's good here?" He asked, even though he already knew what he would be ordering.

Peter picked up his own menu and looked it over, his gaze flickering back up to Wade every few seconds. "Um… I like the French toast."

Wade shook his head in mock disappointment. "Peter, Peter, Peter. I thought you were supposed to be American. Have some patriotism, why don't you? Call if Freedom toast."

Peter rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "I'm not changing the name of an established food item just because it references another country. Besides, you're Canadian. What do you care?"

"Oh, I don't." Wade shrugged with a lopsided grin.

The waitress chose that moment to show up, pulling a pencil and a pad of paper from her little white apron.

{We'd look so good in an apron…}

"What can I get you folks to drink this morning?" The young girl's gaze slid over Wade's face, a familiar mixture of curiosity and pity in her expression, before flickering over to Peter. She smiled a little more warmly at him.

"Um… Coffee, please." Wade looked over Peter's face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes now that he wasn't distracted by the teenager's stupidly attractive smile.

"And for you, hun?"

"Just water." Wade stated, still looking at Peter's face. Peter glanced up and met his eyes, his cheeks immediately gaining some color when he caught Wade looking. Wade smirked slightly, strangely satisfied by that reaction.

"Alrighty then. And are you ready to order or do you need a minute?"

Peter looked questioningly at Wade, so the mercenary reluctantly focused his attention on their waitress. "Yeah, we're ready. I'll have the banana pancakes with extra pancakes and a large side of Canadian bacon. Like three sides of bacon." He handed the menu over to her.

"And for you, love?" She smiled at Peter again, and Wade quickly squashed down the inkling of jealousy that sprouted in his stomach.

"I'll have the French toast, please." Peter smiled back at her, like the polite boy that he was, and handed over his menu, too.

"You got it! I'll have that out for you guys in just a few minutes, alright?"

"Thank you!" Peter told her, earning another bright, definitely flirty smile before the waitress flounced off with their orders.

Wade scowled after her.

{Stupid bitch. We should steal that apron when we leave.}

[Don't be juvenile. It wouldn't even fit around Wade's fat waist.]

"Hey, I'm not fat." Wade muttered. "I'm muscular."

He glanced up when he thought he heard Peter chuckle under his breath, but the boy was looking out the window, an innocent expression painted over his face.

"Aren't you a little young to be nursing a coffee addiction?" Wade asked.

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm sixteen. Tons of people my age drink coffee." He picked up his napkin and fiddled with it between his fingers. "But, no… I don't usually drink it. I just had a late night last night, that's all."

Wade planted his elbows on the table and leaned forward, resting his chin in one hand. "Up all night partying?"

Peter snorted. "Hardly. I had a paper to finish that I'd been putting off for too long."

"I see. So you were doing cute nerd things."

Peter rolled his eyes again (he seemed fond of doing that; maybe it was a teenager thing). Quite suddenly and seemingly out of the blue, he asked a question. "Why do you like Spider-Man so much?"

Wade blinked, taken aback by the inquisition. Why was Peter asking that? He couldn't know about Wade and Spidey's recent foray into the realm of romance, could he? "Huh?"

[Always the with the silver-tongued rapier wit.]

Peter nodded at Wade's sweatshirt. "You like Spider-Man a lot, right? Why?"

Oh, yeah. Like in a regular number one fan sort of way. Wade shrugged. "What's not to like? I mean he's perfect. He's got super cool powers and he uses them for good. And he's just genuinely such a nice guy, you know? Like he's really kind and he cares about people. Not just people that he knows, but like everyone. And he works so hard, going out and saving people literally every night. He pushes himself so hard because it's what he thinks is right, even if it means he's constantly tired and busy. And he's not just out to save the world and get famous. He's so much better than those Avengers dicks. And even if they did ask him to join up one day, which they totally should because they would be so fucking lucky to have a shining gem like him on the team, I don't think it'd change him too much. He's out for the little guy, right? Like real people. Not aliens and supervillains and evil AI robots trying to wipe out humanity. The people who actually matter. He doesn't even believe in killing. Which is, you know, crazy but like in a really amazing way. He's just so fucking _good_ and pure and shit. Not to mention he's probably a literal genius, he's so smart, and wicked funny. Man, he cracks me up. So witty. Oh! And he's got the ass of an angel."

He looked at Peter, who was staring at him with an open mouth and wide eyes full of shock and confusion. He was looking at Wade as if Wade had just told him he was in love with Jar Jar Binks, not the illustrious Spider-Man.

"Why do you ask?"

Peter blinked and shook his head slowly. "Um… Just… N-No reason, I guess. I just… wondered."

Wade felt his eyes narrow slightly, confused by Peter's reaction, but he decided to let it go. "Alright, then."

Peter didn't comment any further on the subject. He looked out the window pensively, as if he were lost in thought.

[That's… strange.]

Wade shrugged lightly and leaned back in his seat, starting to sing quietly under his breath. "Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone."

{I'll be waiting, all that's left to do is run!}

"You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess."

{It's a love story, baby just say yes!}

[Please. I'm too tired to puke in your head today.]

{Aw, you love Swifty. Just admit it, White.}

[Never.]

The food came shortly after that, and Peter roused himself out of whatever thought-daze he'd been in as the plates were set down in front of them. Of _course_ he thanked the pretty waitress again.

They chatted about the newest season of Game of Thrones while they ate. They were both totally

{SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS}

pro Daenerys and Jon hooking up, even though that was definitely hardcore incest. Peter was bothered by the fact that the Whitewalkers were able to turn the dead dragon into an ice dragon. (But it's _magic_ , so it doesn't have to make sense, Wade had argued.) (But the dragon's magic is tied to _fire_ , Peter had argued. So it shouldn't be possible for the Night King to be able to reanimate a being made of fire using ice magic.) (Whatever. Ice dragons are fucking cool so it doesn't matter anyway.)

{Incest is hot. SPOILERS OVER.}

The conversation was so easy, flowing like a river that never faltered. Talking to Peter just… clicked. It would have been unsettling to Wade if it hadn't just felt so damn comfortable.

He was so wrapped up in just talking to Peter that he almost forgot the whole reason why he was here in the first place. They'd both finished eating and Wade had swiped the check before Peter could even think about it. Peter glanced at his phone and sighed, catching Wade's attention.

"I have to get going to school." Peter said, his tone so sad and dejected that Wade immediately ached with regret. He almost told Peter he should skip and hang out with him instead. _Almost_. But then he remembered that Peter was a smart kid and a good student and he was gonna go to _college_ and do research like a super sexy scientist.

{Like Bill Nye the Science Guy!}

So he needed to go to school and get good grades and learn stuff. All those important things that Wade never did.

"Sorry, kid." He smiled sympathetically. "But you gotta do what Sesame Street says. And according to them, school is kinda important."

Peter smiled, reaching for his backpack as he stood up. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Big Bird knows best, huh?"

"Absolutely. Except for that whole semi-schizophrenic thing with the giant wooly mammoth puppet."

Peter laughed, and it was such a pure, beautiful sound. Wade grinned. "Right. Except for that." Peter headed for the door and Wade followed, walking him out. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Sure, Petey pie. Oh! I almost forgot." Stupid Wade getting distracted. "Where do you work, again?"

Peter looked up at him curiously. "Oscorp. Why?" They paused on the sidewalk outside the diner.

Wade smiled and shrugged. "Just wondering. That's really impressive you know."

Peter ducked his head and blushed again, but he was smiling and it made Wade feel so warm. "It's not _that_ impressive… I just work in the basement staring at numbers on a computer screen for hours on end."

[Perfect.]

Wade's smile grew more genuine. "Still, Peter. You're super smart. You should be proud of yourself for being able to do all that."

Peter looked up at him, biting down on his bottom lip, and there was this look in his _eyes_ , his big brown Bambi eyes, like he could see straight into Wade's soul and he wanted to grab Wade and… And _have_ him, or something. It made Wade feel breathless and shaky and weird. "Thanks, Wade." He breathed. And then he was reaching up to wrap his arms around Wade's neck and pull him into a hug.

Wade went stiff, caught off guard all over again by the casual touching, especially when he had his face uncovered, and especially in public. But after a few seconds, Peter hadn't pulled away and Wade finally relaxed a little, just enough to wrap his arms around Peter's waist in return and breath in a shaky breath that smelled like laundry detergent and burnt sugar shampoo.

Wade pulled back, confusion crossing over his face because that was… That was familiar, somehow. Peter just let his arms slip slowly from Wade's neck and trailed his hands over the man's chest before pulling away, a shy smile on his pretty little mouth. Wade swallowed.

{Of course it's familiar, stupid-head. We've been around Peter a ton. We even hugged him before.}

"Right." Wade breathed with a slight nod.

Peter glanced down at the ground, then back up to meet Wade's eyes. "So… Bye, Wade. See you later."

"Yeah." Wade reached out and ruffled the boy's hair, humming quietly when he felt how damn soft and thick it was, just like he'd imagined. "See ya later, Petey."

Peter dropped his skateboard with a light grin and stepped on, pushing off the sidewalk and disappearing into the crowds with a cute little wave. Wade watched him go, frowning gently.

"I don't think we should use him."

[Shut up. It's a good plan.]

{Why not?}

Wade shook his head, unable to justify the bad feeling he had about it. Like he'd be betraying Peter in some way. "I don't want him to get hurt."

[He won't.] White soothed. [I promise. Quick and easy… No one will even know we're there.]

{Besides, isn't it pretty important? Spidey needs us to figure out who the goblin is so we can kick his ass to hell and back.}

Wade nodded slowly, deciding to keep going with the plan for now, since there wasn't any immediately apparent danger to Peter.

"Fine, but… We can't let him get caught in any crosshairs, yeah?"

{Yeah.}

[Of course.]

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wade would have preferred to wait a while so it wasn't as suspicious, but Peter had said he was working _today_ after school and other than that Wade didn't know his work schedule at all. So that was how, at four o'clock in the afternoon, Wade found himself loitering outside the giant glass doors of the giant shiny Oscorp Tower. It wasn't quite as tall or ostentatious as the Stark Tower, but it was close.

Wade sighed, wishing that he were wearing his suit, or at least had some of his weapons. But he'd never be allowed inside if he brought weapons in (and usually that wouldn't stop him, but he didn't want to get Peter in trouble). It was a good thing that he was good at improvising when needed and could probably kill people with just about any object he found lying around. Or his bare hands. Sometimes it paid off to be creative, though.

{Remember that time with the paperclip? That was so much fun.}

[Stop waiting around and get in there. It'll look suspicious if you keep standing out here and staring at the building like you want to blow it up.]

{Oooh, we should have brought explosives!}

"Peter's in there, you idiot." Wade muttered, pushing open one of the fancy doors and stepping into the equally fancy lobby.

{Oh yeah.}

Wade didn't let himself stop and look around, because he wanted to draw as little attention as possible. He knew he'd be on camera the whole time, anyhow. He made his way to the wide, granite-topped reception desk and smiled politely at the woman who was working there. She looked startled when she glanced up at Wade, another familiar reaction to the horror that was his skin.

"Can I help you?" She asked, maintaining professionalism even though she clearly wanted to lean away from Wade or run screaming from the room.

"Yes, please. I need to see Peter Parker. Could you tell me where I can find him?"

The woman looked at her computer screen and typed a few words out on the slim wireless keyboard. She frowned slightly at whatever came up from her search and glanced back at Wade. "May I ask what this is about? Interns don't usually get visitors."

Wade tried to arrange his face into an apologetic smile. "Yeah. It's just that Peter forgot his medication at my place, and it's kind of important that he take it regularly. I don't want to interrupt his work." Wade pulled a small orange prescription bottle from his sweatshirt pocket and glanced at the label. "But I think he's due for another dose in the next hour or so."

The receptionist's frown had deepened, but after a moment of thought she nodded slightly. "Alright, let me get you a visitors' pass. And would you please sign in here?" She handed him a clipboard and a pen.

"Sure. Thank you so much." Wade signed himself in as Brian Reynolds and took the little plastic clip-on badge that the lady offered him. He stuck it to the top of his sweatshirt.

"Just take the elevators on the left down to level A6. Follow the signs for the Analysis Department; Peter has an office down there."

Wade grinned. "Will do, thanks!"

{That was easy.}

[See? I told you. No sweat.]

Wade kept a neutral expression as he walked over to the correct bank of elevators, eyes silently scanning the lobby for signs of anything suspicious. It had felt too easy, almost. He couldn't help but have a bad feeling about it.

[You're just being paranoid.]

{You're always paranoid.}

Wade sighed and pressed the down button. A sleek glass elevator opened immediately to his left and Wade stepped in, glad that he was the only one in the small space as the doors slid closed behind him. He took a few deep breaths and reminded himself that he was doing this for Spidey.

[And for us. We need to know what the fuck they're doing with Weapon X.]

Wade nodded. But he wasn't concerned about himself right now. He couldn't get hurt or die. He didn't have family or any irreplaceable things in his life. He had nothing to lose. And he was confident in his ability to fight his way out of here if anything happened. But none of that mattered if he got Peter hurt or in trouble. What if Peter lost his job because of Wade? That was his future.

[He _won't_. And we're here already, so there's no backing out now.]

Wade didn't respond. He stepped out of the elevator when it arrived at level A6 (the sixth floor down in the basement, Wade gathered). It wasn't as nice down here as the lobby had been. The hallway was painted a boring off white and the fluorescent lights buzzed obnoxiously overhead. But it was clean and normal looking, not creepy like some of the basement labs Wade had been to before.

He glanced around until he saw one of those little message boards at the end of the hallway that told you where everything is. He made his way there, ignoring Yellow when he started singing.

{It's a thief in the night, to come and grab you. It can creep up inside you and consume you.}

Wade stopped to look at the list of departments and room numbers. He found Analysis with a little arrow next to it pointing to the left. He turned that way.

{A disease of the mind, it can control you. It's too close for comfort!}

"Do you have to sing that?" Wade muttered. "I thought you were trying to convince me this whole operation was light and harmless."

{But it's a great song! And it's almost Halloween. The readers want something creepy and dark, not just fluff and smut.}

"What the fuck are you talking about? It's April."

{Not in the real world…}

[Shut up. You're not helping. Besides, I think they probably like the fluff and smut.]

{Disturbia! Am I scaring you tonight? Your mind is in Disturbia.}

"Shut up now." Wade muttered, turning one more corner and finding himself in a hallway lined with what looked like offices. The little plaques beside the doors all said 'Analyst,' so he was pretty sure he was in the right place.

{Oh em gee does Petey have one of these cute little rooms all to himself?}

"Looks like it." Wade smiled, coming to a stop in front of a door that said 'Peter Parker, Junior Analyst' on the official looking plaque.

{Awwww our little Peter has an office and everything! He's so smart…}

[ _Our_ Peter? I think you're getting ahead of yourself. Besides, I thought you were in love with Spider-Man. Or is that just a casual, free to see other people sort of thing?]

Wade frowned, but quickly squashed down the confusing mixture of guilt and fear and anguish that White's words produced. "Now is not the time to discuss that." He hissed. "We can talk about it later." Before either box could argue, he raised one hand and knocked on the door.

He listened to the faint sound of a rolling chair being pushed across the floor, and then the door was opening with a soft click. "I'm really busy today, Ha-" Peter froze, his eyes widening comically at the sight of Wade standing there, trying to smile like he was just dropping in for a casual visit. "Wade?"

Wade raised one hand in greeting. "Hey, Pete. Thought I'd stop by for a visit, see where you do all your fancy important work." He made a show of glancing around the hallway. "It's totes impressive. Very professional. Like you have a real job and everything!"

Peter laughed, still sounding a little startled, and stepped back to let Wade come into his office. "Yeah, I mean, it's pretty boring. Not much to see. But you're welcome to look around."

Wade slipped into the office and did just that, glancing around the space and taking in all the details. It was quite small, with just enough room for the two of them to maneuver around in the open space. The lighting was softer in here, the room lit by a couple of table lamps instead of the bright overhead lights. Peter's backpack sat in a corner, next to his skateboard. Most of the room was occupied by a desk holding not one but _two_ Oscorp computers, both screens of which currently showed huge spreadsheets full of numbers. Wade raised his eyebrows at that. "Looks complicated." He commented.

Peter sighed and leaned back against the closed door. "Yeah, it is. I'm having trouble with this one. But I'll figure it out eventually."

Wade flashed him a grin. "I'm sure you will."

Peter smiled back. "How did you get in here, anyway?" He didn't seem unhappy to see Wade, just curious about how he managed it.

Wade withdrew the little prescription bottle from his pocket and tossed it to Peter, who caught it reflexively and looked down at the label. "You needed to take your medicine. It's very important." Peter shot him a questioning look and Wade chuckled. "They're tic tacs. Orange flavor."

"Ew." Peter made a face.

"I know." Wade chuckled.

Peter grinned at him, and Wade tried to ignore the little stirring of butterflies in his stomach. Peter shouldn't be looking at him that way. And Wade shouldn't be liking it.

Peter glanced down at the ground, scuffing his shoe against the plain brown carpet. "I should keep working on this. But do you wanna maybe stick around? I should be done in about an hour and then we could hang out."

Wade nodded, feeling an unpleasant combination of guilt and giddy happiness that Peter was so happy to see him.

{Twice in one day! Petey must like us.}

"Sure." Wade smiled. "Don't mind me, I'll just, um… Sit in the corner and try to be quiet."

Peter chuckled. "I think that might actually kill you. But don't worry, I don't need you to be quiet. I can work while you talk." He walked back to his nice little rolling chair and sat down. "Just don't expect me to be as witty as I usually am in upholding my part of the conversation."

Wade grinned, watching Peter refocus on the screen of numbers. Damn, this kid was perfection. "Not a problem. I am the supreme ruler of one-sided conversations. I could keep it up for hours on end, and I have, actually, but I probably shouldn't be spreading that around in polite company. Are you considered polite company? I guess so because you're sweet and young and you don't need your little ears to be defiled by unseemly conversation. But also you like talking to _me_ so maybe you're not so polite after all. Hey what kind of computers are these, anyway? I don't think I've seen them before and they look pretty bad ass. Like Blade Runner from the future kind of shit." Wade moved around to lean over the back of the desk, examining the backs of the computers. "Which, by the way, was great. Ryan Gosling is a total babe and if I didn't already have a masturbation pact going with Ryan Reynolds I might actually consider changing my vote for best Ryan. It's a close call but I think I'm gonna have to stick with the classics here. Although, The Notebook might be enough to change my mind. Reynolds never made a movie like The Notebook." While Wade was chattering mindlessly, he reached out to slide his hand over the back of one of the screens, as if feeling the material it was made of, and discretely slipped his special flash drive into an open port. The camera was across the room in the corner of the ceiling so it wouldn't be able to see the backs of the computers. "But then again, Gosling could never pull off Deadpool. So we're back to square one all over again." He meandered back to the other side of the room, not having gotten any responses from Peter other than a couple of hums of agreement while he rambled.

[Perfect. Now we just have to wait a while and figure out how to look natural getting it back.]

{Hey, you were actually pretty smooth this time!}

"Shut it." He hissed, nervous guilt churning in his stomach. "Anyway. I guess we could take into account the fact the Reynolds was voted sexiest man alive, which, thanks by the way. But did Gosling win that one time too? I don't remember, so I guess we'll have to call that a tie." Wade leaned back against the wall beside Peter and stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket, trying to relax. The virus would take about ten minutes to run its course and collect everything Wade would need. "And they're _both_ Canadian, can you believe that? I guess all good things come from Canada. Except you, Pete. And Spider-Man." Peter hummed again, a light smile flickering over his mouth. "But seriously, America should be thanking Canada for all its wonderful imports. I mean, come one. Maple syrup! And Justin Bieber. And me! Can't forget about me. But wait! Oh my god. We're forgetting the most important thing here. Ryan Reynolds was _married to Black Widow_ for like three whole years. Like, total score, am I right?"

Peter actually tore his eyes away from the screen, where he'd been typing some complicated looking math formulas or something, to give Wade a confused look. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah." Wade grinned. "Scarlet Johansson, the second hottest spider-babe in the world?"

{And the deadliest… Man, she can kill men with her pinky finger… We've seen it. So fucking hot.}

"Who?"

Wade shook his head. "Never mind, Peter Pan. Let's just say Reynolds gets like a million bad ass points for bagging that hot arachnid." Peter shook his head with an amused expression and focused on his work again. "So I guess, in the end, Reynolds wins the best Ryan contest. We kind of knew it would be that way from the beginning, because come on… Deadpool. But anyway. Who d'you think would win the Spidey contest? Because Holland is cute as fuck and Garfield had the whole fresh new look thing going for him, but Maguire has that classic look."

{Fuck classic. Holland is a hot young thing.}

"Mm." Wade hummed in agreement, noticing that Peter seemed to be sitting a bit stiffly in his chair, as if Wade's words had caught his attention. "Yeah, you're right. But it doesn't matter. I like our Spidey best. He wins every time."

[You don't even know what he looks like.]

"Yeah but there's no way he's not hot. And probably just like really, really beautiful. His mouth certainly is…" Wade cleared his throat, suddenly realizing that perhaps these were not the things he should be talking about in front of Peter, who did _not_ know that he was Deadpool or that he actually knew Spider-Man. "So… Hottest Avenger? Yeah, definitely Black Widow. No question. But wait! What about the Captain? Because his ass is definitely drool-worthy. And that pure, all American look has never looked better. But no… You're right. He probably wouldn't be into anything kinky in bed. So definitely Black Widow."

Wade was about to start in on who would be the hottest Harry Potter character, but a knock on the door cut him off.

Peter glanced towards the door, and the startled, anxious look in his eyes immediately put Wade on edge. "Just a-" Peter started to call out, but the door was opening before he could do more than stand up from his chair.

"Hey Petey, you'll never guess what Maureen upstairs said about-" A young man, maybe only a couple years older than Peter, stopped in his tracks a couple of steps into the room, his sky-blue eyes widening slightly when they landed on Wade. He was gorgeous. The kind of magazine model asshole you saw on billboards in Times Square during the holiday season. He was wearing a suit, something clearly expensive that hugged his body in all the right ways, emphasizing his slim but fit physique. His black hair lay in an artfully styled mess across his forehead, and his jawbones looked like they could cut ice. Wade watched the expressions skitter across his beautiful face; first shock, then disgust, a moment of fear and apprehension, and then the boy had shut his features down into a careful, polite, blank neutral that was clearly only accomplished with practice. "Who's this, Peter?"

Wade glanced at Peter, noticing that he looked especially pale. Like he'd seen a ghost. Or been caught doing something he shouldn't. "This is… Um, this is my friend Wade." Peter shifted slightly, gesturing between Wade and the model kid. "Wade, this is my friend Harry."

Wade's gaze snapped back to Harry as the kid stepped up beside Peter, extending his hand towards Wade. "Harry Osborn." He smiled politely, but there was something of a sneer in it, a little too much emphasis on the last name, and Wade's eyes darkened as he realized who this was. Harry _fucking_ Osborn, the heir to this massive evil empire. Why was Peter friends with Harry Osborn? And why hadn't he mentioned it before?

{Holy shit, innocent little Peter is playing in the big leagues and we didn't even know it!}

[It is… A strange coincidence.]

Wade only hesitated for a moment before slipping his hand out of his pocket and reaching out to shake Harry's. "Wade Wilson." He offered in return, keeping his tone as neutral as possible while he watched Harry flinch and glance down at their joined hands, clearly startled by the feeling of Wade's scarred skin. Wade snatched his hand back as quickly as possible and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So." Harry looked Wade over, as if sizing him up. "You're the mysterious Wade, hm?"

Wade glanced at Peter again, who was staring at the ground as if he were wishing he could sink down into it and disappear. "Well, I don't know about mysterious. But that's my name, anyway."

He didn't like the way Harry was looking at him. As if he were sizing Wade up for a fight and liked what he saw, as if he were confident he could win.

{We could take the little bitch down in under a second. He'd never stand a chance in hell. His pretty, valuable blood would be all over the floor before he even knew what was happening.}

[But we couldn't make Peter like us more than him.] White pointed out quietly.

And oh. _Oh_. Wade finally understood what was going on here as he watched Harry step in closer to Peter's side and throw an arm casually around the younger boy's shoulder. "Want to come over tonight?" He asked Peter with a small smirk, gaze flickering over Wade before ignoring him completely.

Peter made a small sound of protest and wriggled uncomfortably under Harry's arm, but didn't push him away. " _No_ , Harry. I told you, I'm busy tonight."

"You're busy every night." Harry complained with a small pout that looked so unfairly sexy.

{How come we never look sexy when we pout?}

[Because Wade looks like a dying avocado after a trip through the blender.]

Peter was frowning, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he glared at the ground. "Yeah, Harry, I'm busy. You know I'm busy."

"Can't you take one night off? For me?"

Peter's gaze flickered up to meet Wade's, and the fear and regret and fucking _guilt_ reflected in those big brown eyes stole Wade's breath away. And not in a good way. Why did it feel like Peter was, like, cheating on him or something?

[That's stupid. He was never ours to begin with. And don't you think he belongs with someone like Harry Osborn? Beautiful and rich and accomplished. Going places in life.]

{We're rich…} Yellow muttered sullenly.

"No, Harry. Not tonight." Peter finally ducked out from under Harry's arm and took a step away from him, turning to face the Osborn heir with a tense, desperate look. "I have to get back to work now."

Harry frowned. "You already have one visitor." He gestured towards Wade, tone petulant.

Wade clenched his jaw and stepped towards the side of the desk, as if trying to give them some room or a thin illusion of privacy. When it looked like neither of them were paying attention to him, he slid one hand back behind the computer and pulled out his flash drive, palming it easily and slipping it unseen into his pocket.

"Wade's not bothering me!" Peter protested, hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to throw them up into the air. "I don't mind if he just hangs around. He doesn't, you know… Distract me."

Wade tried to ignore the sinking feeling he got when he wondered how Harry usually distracted Peter.

"Fine." Harry's tone was defensive, but his expression was soft when he looked at Peter. "I'll get out of your hair, then." He stepped forward, leaning in towards Peter, but Peter flinched away, a dark flush spreading over his cheeks. Harry paused for a moment and looked at him, then his gaze flickered over to Wade, eyes darkening slightly. Wade swallowed, unable to look away as Harry placed a hand on Peter's waist and finished leaning in, planting a gentle kiss on Peter's forehead. It was chaste and sweet and pretty innocent, but it sliced something open deep inside Wade that suddenly felt like it was bleeding. Badly.

"See you tomorrow, Petey." Harry said, stepping away with a small smile. He turned and left without another glance in Wade's direction. The door shut behind him with a quiet click that seemed too loud in the suddenly silent room.

Wade stared at the door. Peter stared at the floor. After a long, heavy moment, Wade stepped away from the desk. "I should get going."

"What?" Peter's gaze snapped up to look at him, eyes wide and desperate behind his glasses. "What about hanging out?"

Wade shrugged. "You seem busy. And I don't want to, um… Not, distract you. Or whatever." He didn't know why he was being bitter like this, but something about watching he and Harry like that had really hurt. And it confused Wade and made him feel guilty because he shouldn't even _care_. He should be happy for Peter. But he couldn't be. And he just wanted to forget all about this as soon as possible so he didn't have to keep feeling like shit.

"But… You're not, Wade! I mean, I like having you around. I like… I like when you talk nonstop about stuff and I like being with you and I thought maybe I could come over, or, or you could come to my place and we could play Mario Cart again, and just… Just hang out, you know?"

Wade crossed to the door, his heart breaking all over again at the tremor in Peter's voice. "Maybe some other time." He mumbled.

{Why are you being an idiot?} Yellow hissed. {Don't hurt the poor boy. He's the only person alive who actually likes us. Other than Spidey.}

[He deserves better than us.]

"But… Wade, I-" Peter trailed off and Wade glanced back at him, mortified to see tears swimming in those beautiful eyes.

"No no no, Peter… No, it, it's okay." He crossed back to the boy and hesitated, wanting to reach out but not knowing how to. "I'm not mad. I'm sorry if I seemed like it, I just… Um, I remembered something that I have to go do, okay?"

Peter didn't look like he believed him, and the tears were threatening to spill over onto his reddened cheeks.

Wade raised one hand, hoping Peter wouldn't mind that he wasn't wearing gloves, and pressed his palm lightly against the soft perfect skin of his cheek. "Rain check?" He asked gently, thumb swiping feather-light across the silky skin under his eye.

Peter leaned into his touch with a shaky sigh, blinking a couple of times to try to dispel the tears that had gathered there. "Okay…" He whispered.

Wade managed a small smile, his stomach feeling like it might crawl up his throat and die. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Peter. I promise." He let his hand fall away, almost immediately missing the warmth of flesh under his fingertips. "Be good, yeah? Do your homework and stay away from naughty things like cocaine. And sex."

Peter laughed weakly. "I'll do my best."

"Good." Wade reached out to open the door, pausing to look at Peter one last time. "Bye, Pete."

"Bye, Wade." Peter was watching him go with an expression of such loss that Wade almost gave in and just stayed. But he couldn't deal with this right now. Peter was… confusing him. So he forced himself to look away from those sad eyes and walk out into the hallway.

He rode the elevator up to the lobby and exited the building in a haze, hardly even remembering to be on the lookout for any security mobilization that might indicate they had found out what he did. His virus was virtually undetectable, though, so he wasn't surprised that everything seemed normal when he left. Out on the street, a good couple of blocks away from the tower, Wade pulled the tiny blue flash drive out of his pocket and looked at it.

"Well, we got what we came for." He stated bitterly.

[Yeah. We did. Now we should get busy analyzing some data of our own. Forget the kid, Wade. We have bigger concerns.]

{But… We don't want him to be sad, do we?}

Wade sighed heavily. For once, White was probably right. "We can worry about that later. For now, let's get to know our Oscorp friends a little better, shall we?" Wade tucked the flash drive back into his pocket and started heading for his closest safe house.

[I'm always right.]

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
Angeles – Elliott Smith  
Lyrics:  
U Can't Touch This – MC Hammer  
Love Story – Taylor Swift  
Disturbia - Rihanna

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	11. You Look So Stupid, Happy and Numb

**Peter**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter wasn't really sure what had just happened. He knew what had _happened_ , because he wasn't having trouble with his memory, but his head was such a mess of hazy, heavy emotions that he could hardly begin trying to sort through it all.

He'd been staring at the closed door for over a minute now, eyes glued to the spot where he'd last seen Wade disappearing, the big man's shoulders tense and eyes guarded as he'd walked out. Walked away from Peter. He'd just been taking short, shallow breaths and doing his best to fight back the burning feeling in his chest so he wouldn't cry. It wasn't considered professional to cry at work. He sighed once, an unsteady breath meant to calm his nerves, and tore his gaze away from the door so he could sit back down in his chair.

Why had Wade just shown up here like that, with no warning at all? No. No, that wasn't fair. It wasn't his fault. Peter had been _glad_ to see him, so happy that he'd come all the way here just to hang out with Peter. With _Peter!_ Not just Spider-Man. _Wade_ had texted _Peter_ to hang out, and had gone to the trouble of sneaking in to Oscorp just to see him twice in one day. And then Harry had shown up and fucking ruined everything…

But no, that wasn't fair either. Peter hadn't told Harry about who Wade was to him. He'd never stopped Harry from kissing him in front of other people before. He couldn't blame his friend for behaving the way he always did with Peter. Although, he had thought that Harry was pushing it a little too far… Like he was doing it on purpose, just to show Wade that he could. But Peter was probably just being paranoid. Harry wouldn't do that. Harry was a good person; he wouldn't go out of his way to hurt someone like that.

Mostly, Peter just felt terribly, horribly, really fucking awfully guilty. Like he'd betrayed Wade. Cheated on him. And was it cheating? Peter hadn't done anything with Harry since he'd realized he was in love with Wade. He hadn't even seen Harry. And he'd intended to talk to Harry at school today, to tell him that they shouldn't mess around and kiss and be all cute and couple-y anymore. But Harry hadn't been in school. They'd texted, but Peter hadn't seen him at all until just now. Besides, he and Deadpool had never discussed what they _were_ to each other or… Or talked about being exclusive. But those were incredibly weak excuses. And when Peter thought about the hurt look in Wade's eyes when he watched Harry touching him, he knew that all the excuses in the world wouldn't change the truth. He was cheating on Wade.

And he _had_ hurt Wade. He'd seen it, heard it in his voice. And that was awful and incredible all at once, because it meant that Wade liked him. Liked _Peter_ , enough that it hurt to see him with someone else. But it had been Peter who hurt him, so overall he just felt like shit. Really terrible, guilty shit.

He whimpered, running his hands through his hair as he stared blankly at the screen full of numbers. There was no way he could focus now. It was all a mess. His whole life was a fucking mess. He was constantly on edge about the Green Goblin and what he might do, when he'd show up next. Except when he was with Wade, and then he just forgot about everything else and just felt so stupidly happy and safe like some sappy teenager in a vampire novel (which come to think of it… Wade was probably immortal, and a dangerous anti-hero killer to boot). And even that was confusing, because Wade didn't know he was Peter. Or, that Spidey was Peter. But sometimes it felt like Wade _did_ know, and other times he… He just looked at Peter like he didn't recognize him; like he was looking for someone else. And he _thought_ Deadpool liked him as much as he liked Deadpool, but sometimes he worried that he was making more out of this than it was. He was a weepy, clingy mess because he felt like this was, you know, love, and his first and like if he couldn't be with Wade all the time he might just crawl under his covers and drown. And Wade… Wade almost shot himself because he thought he had touched Peter without consent. But he also _was_ much more experienced, sexually, so maybe this was mostly about hooking up for him.

But then Peter would remember the way Deadpool sometimes looked at him, like he was seeing sunlight for the first time, and the way he held him, like Peter was so fragile and precious he might shatter, and the way he spoke to him, so reverent, so full of promise. And then Peter thought maybe this could be real. It was real. And he just wanted to be near Wade all the time and he needed to tell Wade who he was and _fuck_ … Now Wade might hate him because of Harry and even if he put an end to it, talked to Harry tomorrow and came clean to Wade and explained everything… It was what he had to do, but he was scared. So scared of losing Wade when he'd only just found him.

Peter groaned into his hands, head hung, then pushed back roughly from the desk and stood up. He couldn't sit and stew in his guilt and worry any longer. He needed to do something. So he shut off his computer and sent a quick text to Harry.

 **Can we talk tomorrow? Meet before school at the diner?**

He'd take care of it. He'd end whatever it was he had with Harry and make sure that things were right with Wade, and then maybe he could stop feeling like a filthy piece of trash stuck to the bottom of someone's boot. And if the Green Goblin could drop dead at some point along the way and all of his homework magically do itself, that would be great too.

Peter left the office without a backwards glance and took the bus home. He got a text from Harry as he was letting himself into his apartment.

 **Sure, Petey. See you at 7 xx**

Peter swallowed down any inappropriate sorrow that rose in his throat at the sight of those two x's and tucked the phone away without responding. Aunt May was working the same shift as yesterday, so she wouldn't be coming home until almost midnight. He had just enough time to write his English paper and scarf down some dinner before he went out to meet Deadpool, so he better get busy.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter was nervous to see Wade again after the fiasco that afternoon, but his excitement far outweighed his nerves. He'd probably get to kiss him again. And Wade was a _fantastic_ kisser. God, the things he could do with his mouth… Peter blushed just thinking about it. It was probably good that he'd been able to wear his mask when he and Wade had been… together, so far, because he was sure that the various shades of red that took over his face were not the most attractive.

It was only nine when he landed on the hotel roof, but Wade was already there, waiting for him. It gave Peter a little thrill to see him sitting there on the edge of the roof, gaze far away over the city and hands fiddling with something small in his lap; it looked like a flash drive. Deadpool was quiet, even as Peter walked across pavement towards him. He came to a stop at Wade's side, hesitating to speak when Wade was sitting so still and silent, spaced out, not even talking to his voices.

Peter swallowed and slowly sunk down to sit beside the mercenary, his mind flashing over the events of the afternoon and making him feel nervous all over again. "Hey." He finally said, voice soft. "You're quiet tonight." Wade jumped slightly, but he didn't throw any knives this time, so Peter would count that as a step in the right direction.

"Oh." Deadpool glanced at Peter and ducked his head slightly, an apology. "Sorry, Spidey. I was just thinking." He tapped the side of his head and Peter noticed that the flash drive had disappeared. "Too much goin' on in the ol' noggin. As per usual." Wade reached out and wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulders, pulling him into his warm side. Peter immediately relaxed, breathing out a relieved sigh as warmth and safety and the smell of Wade surrounded him. "How's it hanging, Baby Boy?"

Peter hummed slightly, laying his head down on Deadpool's muscular chest. "Better now." He admitted.

Wade's big, warm hand rubbed soothing lines up and down his arm. "Any trouble today?" He asked, concern plain in his voice.

"No." Peter assured him quickly. "Just a, um… A shitty afternoon."

"Wanna talk about it?" He offered sweetly.

Peter swallowed. "Not… Not right now." His voice fell to a regretful whisper. "Sorry."

Wade just gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Don't worry about it, little spider. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. Besides, we should focus if we've got limited time again. You gotta walk someone home from work tonight?"

"Yeah." Peter sat up a bit, relieved to move on to the matters at hand. He'd talk to Wade about everything as soon as he ended things with Harry. Tonight they could just focus on his other massive, life threatening problem. "Eleven thirty." He wasn't technically _walking_ his aunt home so much as following her from the sky and surrounding buildings, but who cares about semantics?

"Alrighty, Spidey." Peter could hear the grin in his voice, and he couldn't stop his own mouth from curling upwards in a smile. "Then let's get hopping. I've been looking forward to this aaaaaaall day." Wade leapt to his feet and Peter was quick to follow. Deadpool was shucking weapons from his belt again, piling them all at his feet, and Peter watched with interest as deadly tools appeared one after another, as if from thin air.

Wade was muttering under his breath as he pulled an impressively large number of guns from his belt and thigh and boots and back. Peter tried not to listen, but it was hard to miss with his super hearing. "Not right now… _Because_ , White. I said so. And it's not necessary. He doesn't need to know that yet… Yeah, maybe."

Peter stepped forward as Wade slung the katanas off his back and set them gently down beside everything else, the last items he would take off. "Wait." Peter's tone was serious, and it halted Wade in his tracks. He gave Spider-Man a questioning look through the mask. "You're forgetting something." Wade glanced down at himself, ran his hands over his pouches and legs, and gave Peter a _very_ confused tilt of the head.

Peter closed the distance between them and reached for the edge of Wade's mask, biting down on his lip when he heard the merc's breath catch. He carefully rolled the mask up to his nose, eyes roaming hungrily over the exposed skin, before reached back to roll his own mask up, too. "Aren't you going to kiss me hello?" He breathed, heart thudding in his chest.

A slow grin spread over Wade's mouth, and Peter couldn't help but stare. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And then he was leaning in, soft, scarred lips landing on Peter's mouth, hot and eager but so very gentle all at once, his hands coming to rest on the teenager's waist. Peter relaxed into it with a happy sigh, hands landing on Deadpool's shoulders as he stood on his tiptoes to get more leverage. Wade's lips parted easily with the encouragement of Peter's tongue, and he pressed closer as he finally got to that sweet taste he'd been craving since last night. It had been so hard this morning not to just wrap his arms around Wade's neck and kiss him goodbye after breakfast, lick that maple syrup taste from his lips. Peter delved deeper now to make up for it, trying to find the taste of syrup somewhere in the depths of Wade's mouth. Wade made a low, almost cautioning sound in the back of his throat, his fingers tightening against Peter's ribs, and fought to take back control of the kiss.

Peter found that he quite liked it when Wade tried to take control. But he wasn't going to make it too easy on him. He gave a sharp bite to Wade's bottom lip, pulling a surprised gasp from the mercenary. "Careful, Baby Boy…" Wade warned, pulling his mouth out of Peter's reach. "If we keep this up, we might get… distracted."

Peter huffed in frustration and wrapped his arms around Wade's neck. He placed one foot on Wade's thigh and climbed him like a tree, settling down with his legs wrapped around Deadpool's waist and his lips mouthing insistently against his warm, textured jaw. "What if I wanna be distracted?" He murmured against Wade's skin.

Wade groaned, his arms slipping around Peter's waist to hold him up (although Peter was quite comfortable where he was and needed no assistance in staying put). "Is this… Mm. Is this what I get for dating a sixteen-year-old? You're right, Yellow. I guess it's true what they say. Teenage boys really _are_ horny all the time."

Peter scowled, although his heart was soaring in his chest. Dating. Wade had said they were _dating_! "As if you're not?" He retorted, dropping his weight slightly to grind his ass against the hard line of Wade's clearly interested cock. Just for the purposes of making his point, of course. And not at all because it sent a wave of thick, hot pleasure running through his veins.

Wade grunted and gripped Peter more tightly, giving the impression that he was holding himself back from something. "Tell you what." He dipped his head to run his lips along Peter's bare neck, making him shiver. "We'll play a little game, alright?" His voice had taken on a rough edge, and Peter found it all the more arousing.

He hummed in agreement, tipping his head back to give Wade more access to his skin. "What kinda game?"

Wade bit lightly at the spot where his neck met his shoulder, making Peter jolt. "Every time you pin me down, you get a kiss." He trailed kisses up to Peter's jaw, his hands sliding down to land squarely on the hero's ass and _squeeze_.

Peter gasped. "Just… Just a kiss?" He questioned breathlessly, still managing to sound indignant.

Wade chuckled, low and dark in a way that went straight to Peter's dick. "I didn't say it would be on the mouth."

Peter groaned, tipping his head down to try to find Wade's mouth with his own, but the merc was already pulling away, prying Spidey's legs off of him with considerable strength and setting the boy back on the ground. Peter whined, shamelessly using his spider powers to cling to the shoulders of Deadpool's suit and resist separation.

Wade just chuckled, albeit a bit breathlessly. "Come on, Sweet-cheeks. We only have an hour or so because I know you're not gonna let us skip patrolling, and that's not much time. I'm not easy to beat, you know." Peter sighed, but he released his grip and allowed Wade to pace away a few steps, inconspicuously adjusting the front of his suit as he went.

Peter stuck out his bottom lip as he set his hands on his hips and stared at Wade, now facing him from several feet away. "Miss you." He pouted petulantly, not unaware that he was acting like a clingy teenage brat. He didn't care. Because Wade didn't care. Wade _wanted_ him, and that made Peter feel so… powerful.

Wade stood still, fingers twitching at his sides. Peter could hear the quiet mumbled words, clearly not meant for him. "I know… Doesn't seem real. But it is. I think." There was silence for a moment, then he raised his voice to cover the distance between them. "If you want me, little spider, come and get me!" He slid easily into a fighting position, both completely relaxed and thrumming with danger all at once.

Peter took a deep breath, and grinned. Maybe he enjoyed this. Just a little more than he should. Deadpool was so _good_ at it. It was exhilarating. "Get ready for a swift and easy defeat, Pool Boy!" He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, preparing to charge forward. "Your ass is mine." He darted towards Wade, ready to tackle him down as soon as he got his hands on him.

"Promises, promises!" Wade cackled loudly, dodging easily out of the way and spinning to land a well-placed kick on the back of Peter's thigh, causing him to stumble.

They fought like that for quite a while. Wade didn't hold back, and his wild, unpredictable style and uncanny ability to know where Peter was moving before he even knew himself made him the most challenging adversary Spider-Man had ever faced. And that was way more of a turn-on than it should have been. But over time, Peter got better at laying on the speed. He still couldn't predict what Wade was going to do, but he got better at dodging his attacks. They progressed to the point where neither of them could land a hit on the other, just dancing back and forth over and over, never quite touching. It got a bit frustrating.

And then Wade got out his knives. The first one he threw caught Peter completely by surprise. He hadn't even seen the mercenary draw it, or throw it. It was suddenly just flying through the air towards him. And he couldn't avoid it. Because his Spidey sense didn't even go off. He was so shocked that he froze and stared down at his chest where it had hit him, a dull throbbing pain where it had landed, right over his heart. It hadn't pierced the suit, or Peter's skin, since it was dulled. But it would probably bruise. And suddenly Peter realized that Deadpool was even more dangerous than he'd thought. He wasn't just an incredibly skilled fighter. With his weapons, he was like death itself, so swift and deadly accurate; unstoppable. The realization stole Peter's breath away.

That, and Wade landing a harsh kick to his stomach that knocked him on to his ass.

Peter grunted, but leapt back to his feet. He could see Wade hesitating, stance still defensive but gaze directed towards Peter's face as he waited for something. An indication that they could keep going. Peter huffed out a breath and darted forward to kick Deadpool's legs out from under him.

Their dance began again, but it was different now. Wade threw the occasional knife, and Peter got better at dodging them. Even without his Spidey sense (which must be taking a little vacation since the knives were dull and Deadpool didn't actually intend to hurt him), he could see them coming. He just had to get his body to move intentionally, rather than off pure instinct like he usually did. He felt crippled without his webs, and he knew that if he used them, he could have Wade restrained in under a minute (even if the restraints would only hold because Wade had removed all sharp objects from his person). But slowly, surely, he was managing to gain the upper hand. It would be different if Wade had his weapons, he knew, but as it was… He was starting to land hits. Just glancing blows at first, when Wade couldn't move out of the way fast enough, but soon they were more solid. And once Peter could get his hands on Wade, he could overpower him. He knew that. He just couldn't hesitate, couldn't hold back. And that was the whole point of this thrilling little exercise, wasn't it?

So when Peter finally got a grip on Wade's arms, he didn't stop himself from slamming him to the ground and holding him there. He leaned over Wade's mouth, labored breath mingling with the merc's heavy inhales and exhales, and grinned. "Gotcha."

Wade moaned, head rolling back as he relaxed under Peter's hold. "So… Fucking… Hot…" He panted, and Peter laughed.

"You just arranged this whole thing so you could get me to pin you down, didn't you?" He teased.

"Oh, yes. Definitely." Wade wriggled slightly, and when Spider-Man's hold on him didn't budge, he let out another breathy sound of pleasure. "Yeah, he is… Fuck."

Peter smirked, practically glowing with satisfaction. He loved seeing that he could affect Wade like this. Seeing such clear evidence that Wade liked him, his strength, his body. He sat up, straddling solid, muscular thighs, and loosened his hold. "You owe me a kiss, Big Red."

Wade sat up immediately, a shit-eating grin revealing perfect white teeth almost glowing in the hazy New York night. "You like that I'm big, huh?" He wrapped one hand around the back of Peter's neck and gripped him lightly. "Like that I'm so big and strong and you're my adorable little spider?" Peter hummed lightly, witty responses flying out of his mind like birds startled by a gun shot when Wade's other hand landed high on his thigh. Wade leaned in to breath against his ear. "Well I like it, too… You're so strong… So strong and good and perfect for me. My little spider. My Baby Boy."

Peter whimpered, fingers grasping at Deadpool's suit, wishing he were wearing his katanas so he could hold on to the straps. He gasped when Wade surged forward, laying Peter out on the rooftop and settling above him, weight balanced between his legs. "Alright, Spidey-Babe. I'm all about getting my mouth on that sweet sweet cotton candy skin of yours, but there's one thing we need to do first." Peter huffed out an impatient breath, opening his mouth to tell Wade that whatever it was could fucking _wait_ , but Deadpool's leather-clad hand slid up to grip his jaw, forcing Peter to meet his gaze. He looked serious, so Peter went still, tension bleeding out of his body in the face of Wade's suddenly stern demeanor. "We need a safe word. You know what that is, right? 'Cause I know you're a young little thing but anyone who's ever watched porn or read Spideypool fanfics knows what a safe word is."

Peter nodded ever so slightly, eyes wide behind his mask as his pulse picked up. The notion that Wade thought they needed a safe word was simultaneously arousing and a little intimidating. But he trusted that Wade wouldn't push them into doing anything Peter would actually be uncomfortable with. So far, there didn't seem to be much that he wasn't chomping at the bit to try out with his morally ambiguous mercenary maybe-boyfriend. Wade was probably just being overly cautious given Peter's age and sexual inexperience, which Peter found almost as sweet as he found it aggravating.

"Good. This word is very important and you must never, ever forget it. No matter what, whether we're using the color system or not, doing sexy stuff of the fun adult-hugging variety, or not, you use this word if you _ever_ feel uncomfortable. The safe word will stop everything. All at once. Completely. No questions asked. Got it?" Peter nodded again, and Wade released his grip on the boy's jaw, sliding his fingers down to stroke gently across the pulse point in his neck. "Good boy. Our safe word is Canada, okay?"

Peter's eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Canada? He'd been expecting something ridiculous like 'Spidey's ass is too fabulous for pants' or 'chimichangas for the win.' Or maybe something wildly inappropriate like 'Daddy's big fat cock' because Peter could _not_ imagine himself ever saying something like that seriously. But no. Wade had chosen _Canada_. "Um… Okay."

Wade smiled. "Trust me, Baby Boy." Peter did. "Can you say it for me?"

Peter flushed, knowing that he was being tested and finding it a confusing combination of arousing and embarrassing. "Canada." He breathed, his stomach twisting slightly as the word left his lips.

Wade's mouth landed on his neck, tongue replacing fingers to trace over the delicate dip where his pulse thudded beneath paper thin skin. Peter squirmed, legs tightening around the larger man's hips. "That's right." Wade breathed. "So good for me…" He bit down ever so gently and Peter whined, arching up into him, bringing their hardened lengths together. Heat washed through Peter's body, sweeping him along once again until all he could think about was Wade and Wade's body and Wade's _tongue_ and Wade's hands and he needed all of it. Needed Wade.

Wade seemed almost as affected, panting slow, heavy huffs of air against Peter's neck as he canted his hips forward, rolling them into Peter's over and over until Peter thought he might catch fire. "Please…" He didn't realize he'd been whimpering the word again and again, his hands grasping wildly at Deadpool's costume. "Please… Wade… Please, I-I need…" He turned his head to the side and found rough skin with his lips, pressing a kiss to Wade's jaw.

Wade sucked in a breath, harsher than the rest, and tipped his face up to catch Peter's mouth in a kiss. "Mm… Yeah…" He murmured the words, hot and thick between Peter's lips, still moving against him. "He… Fuck. I know, Baby Boy. Love it when you're so needy for me." Wade slipped his tongue into the young hero's mouth, pillaging it thoroughly and leaving Peter gasping when he pulled away and started sliding down Spider-Man's body, settling low between his legs. He tugged the top of Peter's suit up just enough to reveal a thin strip of skin, and licked a long, hot stripe from one hip bone to the other.

Peter moaned at the sight, head going fuzzier than it already was at the thought of Wade using his mouth on him again. But he caught Wade's shoulder with one hand and tugged at the fabric of his suit, stopping him. "Can I… Um, actually could we…" Peter swallowed, a nervous flush staining his cheeks and jaw. "I want…"

Wade grinned affectionately, setting his hands on Peter's hips. "Spit it out, Baby Boy. Whatever you want, okay? I'll do anything." His words might have been light, but his tone was heavy with promise, and Peter shivered.

He took a small breath before letting the words tumble out of him all at once. "I want to touch you. Can I touch you?" Wade froze, his grin falling away as he stared up at Peter in surprise. Peter felt his heart pounding and he suddenly feared that he might have overstepped his bounds. Did Wade not _want_ Peter to touch him? "I-I mean… Only if you want…"

He watched the lines of Wade's neck move as he swallowed. "Fuck…" Wade breathed, and he seemed a little dazed. "No I… I don't either." He slowly crawled back up Peter's body to plant a kiss on his exposed cheek, and Peter relaxed a little bit. "Baby Boy…" Peter hummed happily, hands curling around the back of Wade's neck. "You don't have to do that. You don't have to touch me."

Peter blinked up at Wade, confused by his tone of voice. "I know." He stated simply. "I want to."

Wade huffed out one shallow, self-deprecating laugh. "Spidey, I… I'm like _this_ ," He raised one hand and pointed a finger at his jaw, moving it in a circular motion to indicate his whole facial area. "Everywhere. I know you don't wanna deal with that when we're doing _that_."

Peter frowned. He felt confused and annoyed and a little horrified that _this_ was Wade's first reaction when Peter said he wanted to touch him. "Wade…" He raised one hand to the mercenary's cheek and stroked his skin, gently, kindly. "It doesn't bother me. I promise." He leaned up and pressed his lips into those impossibly soft, scarred ones that he was already addicted to. His heart twinged when Wade let out this small, broken sound, like he'd never been told that before. Like no one had wanted to _touch_ him before. "Wade…" Peter murmured, hands grasping at him, just wanting him, needing him closer. "Wade, please… I want you."

Wade let out a short, desperate gasp, and then his mouth was claiming Peter's, hand sliding skillfully under the edge of Spider-Man's top and splaying across the planes of his stomach. Peter shuddered, fingers gripping frantically at Wade's belt, trying to pull it out of the way, unclasp it, something, but the damn thing wouldn't budge. After a few moments, Wade tore his hand away from Peter's silken skin to push Peter's fingers aside and fiddle with something on the front of the belt, and then it was falling away all of a sudden, hitting the rooftop with a dull thud, and Wade had never stopped kissing him breathless.

Eager to please and driven by that unstoppable ocean of need, Peter slipped one hand between their bodies and found the hard line of Wade's cock straining against its leather confines. He traced it shyly with his fingers before pressing his palm down against the bulge, and only then could he feel how _big_ Wade was… His breath hitched as he jerked away from their kiss, eyes flying open behind the mask.

Wade drew back immediately and looked down at him, panting gently. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Peter swallowed. "You're so… _big_." He breathed, then immediately flushed scarlet with embarrassment.

Wade stared at him for a second, then a slow smirk took over his mouth as he chuckled, low and dark and undeniably filthy. "Oh, Baby Boy… My sweet, innocent Baby Boy."

Peter wasn't sure if he should be offended or not, but something about the way Wade was looking at him right now, like he wanted to rip into Spidey with his teeth and consume him until there was nothing left, made Peter decide that he didn't care.

He leaned up, capturing Wade's lips again so they could resume their all-consuming kiss. It had a hungry edge to it now, something just bordering on desperate, and Peter felt his blood hum with heat. He squeezed around Wade's cock and felt the mercenary's whole body jerk as he moaned into Peter's mouth. And fuck. He wanted to make Wade do that again. He wanted to make Wade do that over and over and never stop.

He slid his hand down to scrabble for Wade's zipper, aching to get into his pants and make Wade feel as good as he always made Peter feel. Wade broke their kiss with a soft grunt and grasped Peter's wrist with one hand, stopping him. "You don't…" Wade swallowed, voice low with want. "You don't have to." There was no conviction in his tone, but Peter knew he was offering him an out. One last time. One last chance for Spider-Man to back down.

Peter growled. "Shut up." He broke Wade's grip as easily as brushing aside a fly, and found the zipper with his fingers. "Want you." He pulled it down, opening Wade's suit with that small metallic zipping sound that sent chills down his spine. "Need you." He shoved his hand inside and wrapped his fingers around Wade's thick, impossibly hot shaft.

Wade groaned, shuddering hard as his hips jerked, a quickly aborted thrust into Peter's grip. "Fuck." He gasped. Peter swallowed, achingly hard in his own suit and quickly growing incoherent with this need he always felt with Wade and never with anyone else. He forced himself to take deep breaths, focusing on the feeling of Wade in his hand. His skin was definitely scarred there too, but it was soft like his lips, and Peter felt his mouth watering as he slid his hand up, feeling the texture against his palm.

"God, Wade…" He breathed, carefully pulling his cock out from inside the suit so he had more room. "So big…" He felt silly saying those words, but his desire and Wade's reactions burned away any embarrassment he might have felt.

"Yes, Baby Boy…" Wade gasped. "Big for you. Fuck…" He shuddered again as Peter carefully slid his hand up, then back down his length, gripping lightly. He was hesitant, because this felt different than touching himself, and he didn't want to do the wrong thing. But even these slow, careful strokes seemed to be unraveling the mercenary, if his shallow, uneven breaths were any indication.

And then Peter didn't have the mental capacity to feel concerned about his performance, because Wade was shoving his hand into Spider-Man's pants and wrapping his gloved fingers around Peter's cock and they both moaned, pausing for a moment as heat washed over them.

Fuck. They were doing this.

"Wade!" Peter whimpered as Wade pulled him out of his pants, squeezing lightly, and threw his head back as he squeezed Wade in return. Hot lips attached to his neck, trailing fire from his jaw to his shoulder and back again. They set up a slow, light rhythm, hot, ragged breaths and the occasional soft sound filling the night air around them. And Peter was having trouble concentrating on what he was doing to Wade, but he did his best. Soon they were both gritting their teeth, wanting to go faster as the pressure built but the friction was rough and Peter, driven nearly incoherent with want, knew that they needed something.

"Can… Fuck, ah, Wade… Y-Your… Can you take off… I wanna…" He couldn't seem to put together a full sentence, but Wade understood. He released Peter, who gasped and went still at the momentary lost, and shuffled around for a moment, taking off his glove. There was a soft clicking sound, but Peter didn't give it much thought, just eager for Wade to touch him again, this time without unforgiving leather between them. Realizing he should probably do the same, he raised his hand to his exposed mouth and tore off his glove with his teeth, tossing it aside carelessly. He didn't waist time in finding Wade's cock with his hand once again, and he squirmed slightly, whimpering at the heat of him against his bare skin. Wade's responding groan sent shivers of pleasure down Peter's whole body.

When Wade's fingers finally wrapped around his shaft again, they were hot and textured and incredibly slick. Peter whined at the surprising sensation, arching up into Wade's solid body. He'd used something to… Well… _Lube_ his hand and now he was stroking Peter, so impossibly smooth and warm and tight and fuck fuck fuck.

"H-How…? What- Ah… Wade…" Peter squirmed against him, panting and fighting against the waves of pleasure that were causing his hand to go limp around Wade's length, nearly forgotten.

"Always prepared, Baby Boy." His voice was rough, but Peter could still hear the grin in it. "I shoulda been a fucking boy scout." He twisted his hand just so and Peter _cried_ , his hips jolting forward uncontrollably.

"Fuck… Fuck, Wade… Ah, fuck…" Peter chanted mindlessly, taking his hand off Wade for a moment and wrapping his fingers around his own dick, beneath Wade's, and he gasped at the sensation of _both_ their hands there. He stroked along with Wade just a couple of times, but it was enough to make him feel the edge, just out of reach. He let go quickly and brought his hand back to Wade's cock, now slick with whatever Wade had used (probably actual lube). He wrapped his fingers tight around his shaft, biting down on his lower lip as he felt how thick it was, how his fingers could barely touch, and stroked upwards.

Wade groaned, low and heavy, and squeezed Peter tighter. After that it was a race towards the end. And Peter could hardly think about what he was doing, so consumed by the goddamn _heaven_ that was Wade's hand on his dick, but he seemed to be doing alright. Soon Wade's other arm was shaking with the effort of holding his weight off Peter's body, and they were both making soft, helpless, wrecked noises.

And then Wade buried his face in Peter's shoulder and _bit down_ , teeth latching on hard enough to bruise, and for an instant he was back in that alley pressed up against the wall and Wade was holding him so hard and grinding into his ass and _fuck_. Peter came with a cry, the waves of pleasure dragging him under with almost no warning, hot, dark release rushing through his body with enough force to arch his back off the ground. Wade handled him through it, somehow adjusting his grip and pace to be exactly what Peter needed, drawing his pleasure out for several long, incredible moments.

When he came back into his body enough to remember his own name (or at least Wade's), he could hear and feel Wade moaning into his shoulder, teeth still gripping tightly. Peter gasped as aftershocks of arousal shot through his over-sensitive body, his fingers tightening back around Wade's length. He stroked up once, twice, his thumb swiping over Wade's head, and then Wade tipped over the edge with a short whimper, hand flying from Peter's cock to grab roughly at his hip, holding on. Peter bit down on his lower lip, choking back the whine crawling up his throat as he felt Wade's hot release spilling over his fingers.

"Oh god… fuck… Wade…" He panted incoherently, going limp against the ground as Wade rolled off him and immediately pulled the boy into his arms. "Shit…"

Wade laughed breathlessly, shifting slightly as he tucked them both back into their pants and arranged them into a comfortable position before settling down, Peter's head cradled against his neck. "Yeah…" He agreed, arms coiling tight around Peter's waist to hold him close.

Peter sighed deeply, completely contented, and relaxed against Wade with a smile. He was so… Just so… Happy. "Wade." He whispered, squirming closer.

"Yeah, Baby Boy?" Wade's fingers spread over his hip, possessive and warm and perfect. He sounded like he was in the same place; soft and content and just… Happy.

"I…" Peter stopped himself, heart skipping a beat as he cut off the words at the last moment. He swallowed. "Thanks."

Wade chuckled, low and warm, and Peter wanted to stay here forever. "Thank _you_ , Spidey. I haven't felt this good in… Yeah, I know. Fuck. Years."

And that, more than anything else, made Peter's heart soar.

They were quiet for a moment. Content. "You're like my vampire boyfriend." Peter whispered before he could stop himself.

"What's that now?"

Peter blushed, but it was too late to take it back. "You know… Because you're immortal and super strong and dangerous and stuff." He hoped Wade didn't fixate on the 'boyfriend' part, because he didn't want to assume… Thankfully, he seemed to be taken in by the vampire part.

Wade gasped. "Oh em gee I'm Edward Cullen! Does that make you Bella?" Peter made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and could feel Wade nodding above him. "Yeah, you're right. She always kind of annoyed me. Like cool that you're not a girly girl princess, but I still want to pull your hair and kick you in the shin sometimes. Oh! I know. You can be Edward, because he's yummy and smart and all that, and I'll be Emmet 'cause he's the strong one. Or should I be Jasper because he's secretly a way better fighter?"

Peter huffed out an amused sigh and flailed one arm up, trying to cover Wade's mouth with his hand. "Shut. Up. You know way too much about Twilight."

"You take that back! There is no such thing as too much Twilight. And we didn't decide who I should be!"

Peter flung his arm over Wade's chest and pulled himself closer, half laying on the mercenary now. "It doesn't matter. I just want you to be Wade, anyway."

Wade fell silent at that, and Peter could practically hear the boxes arguing in his head. After a while, he muttered under his breath. "Yeah… Edward did the right thing in chapter three. But I'm more selfish than him."

"Sh…" Peter hushed him, because talking to the boxes never seemed to lead anywhere good. Wade fell silent and started petting Peter's side, slow and gentle, and Peter was glad to know where his attention was focused.

They lay like that for a few minutes, long enough for Peter to remember what they were supposed to be doing right now. They'd almost certainly run out of time for more fighting practice. He disentangled himself from Wade's arms with a gentle sigh and sat up. "Patrol?"

"Sure, little spider. Gotta go catch the baddies in your spider webs of love and justice." Wade sat up too, ignoring Peter's snort of amusement as he extended his arms above his head in a luxurious stretch. Peter stared unashamedly, but silently scolded himself for the twitch of interest in his cock as his eyes roamed over all those glorious muscles. Now was not the time.

Wade noticed him looking, and he had a lecherous grin on his face as he rolled onto his knees and stretched like a cat, back arching obscenely and emphasizing all those rippling muscles beneath his skin-tight suit. Peter had to swallow against the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth, and to his intense embarrassment, his stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.

Wade burst into laughter, dropping the act as he rolled back into a sitting position, clutching at his stomach with one hand and waving the other at Peter is if telling him to stop being so funny. "Oh, man… That was too perfect… Fuck yeah, Yellow… Christ."

Peter sighed, but he was fighting not to smile as he grabbed his glove from nearby and climbed to his feet as he slipped it back on. He brushed himself off and cringed as his hands ran over the wet spots they'd left on his suit. Well, it would be easier to clean than blood, so… "That wasn't about you." He protested, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at Wade, who was _still_ laughing. "All I ate for dinner was a banana."

Wade stopped laughing abruptly and leapt to his feet, almost startling Peter. "Jesus, Baby Boy, we need to get some food in you! Spiders need to eat! Don't they eat, like three times their body weight or something?"

"For the last time, Wade, I don't _eat_ like a spider. God." Peter rolled his eyes as Wade bent down to grab his belt and fasten it back into place. He'd replaced his glove at some point, too. "And even if I did, your argument would be invalid. Spiders can go without food for months at a time."

Wade offered him a blinding grin. "You're so smart, Spidey." He turned and walked over to his pile of weapons, which he began placing back on his body, quick and efficient. "But we're still going to feed you. Can't have your fuel tank running low, even if you are a Ferrari. Hell, _especially_ when you're a Ferrari."

Peter rolled his eyes again at the silly metaphor, but to be honest, food did sound really good right now… No. He shook his head. "We need to patrol." He reminded Wade.

Wade swung around to face him, slipping his katanas onto his back. "You need to _eat_." He insisted. It sounded like a command, hard and unyielding, and Peter melted just a little at the sound of it, breath catching. He couldn't argue with _that_ , could he? Wade softened, stepping closer to lay his hands on Peter's shoulders. "Tell you what. We can keep an eye out for crime on the way to the Mexican restaurant, and while we eat on the roof of the Mexican restaurant, and in any of the time we have left after we've filled that little spider tummy and left the Mexican restaurant, okay?"

Peter smiled slightly. "So I guess we're having Mexican, huh?"

Wade grinned. "Always, Baby Boy."

They didn't end up spotting any crime on their way to the restaurant, or during their late-night dinner. Peter listened hard for any sounds of distress or violence all the way there, but he hadn't heard anything. And if he got a little distracted while they ate tacos and chimichangas, because Wade kept making him laugh with his crazy stories and outrageous rants and he was just enjoying himself too much, well… It was only one night. And one night off never hurt anyone, did it?

He left Wade with a lingering kiss, which he would have done even if Wade _hadn't_ been singing "kiss me hard before you go." He was surprised at the way his chest felt tight and empty all at once as he swung away from the red and black figure standing on the roof of the Mexican restaurant. He made sure Aunt May got home safe and slipped into his bedroom window with enough time to scan the apartment and take his suit off to pretend to be asleep before she checked on him. He texted Deadpool's number to tell him he got home safe, and smiled when Wade responded with thirteen heart emoji's, one tiger, and a pair of scissors.

When he fell asleep, his dreams were filled with Wade.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next morning, Peter actually got up early. He was nervous for his meeting with Harry, his stomach in knots as soon as he woke up, fifteen minutes before his alarm was due to go off. Too anxious to go back to sleep, he got out of bed and showered, trying not to think too hard about what he was about to do.

He didn't want to hurt Harry. He really didn't. Even if he'd been distracted lately, by Spider-Man and his internship and _Wade_ (Wade most of all), he still cared about Harry. They'd been best friends for almost a year, and while that didn't seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, it had meant a lot to Peter. Harry meant a lot to him. They'd grown close almost instantly, a chemistry springing up between them that made very little sense but somehow worked beautifully, and the last thing Peter wanted to do was lose that. He'd always felt like Harry had given him a gift, even more valuable and outlandishly wonderful than the laptop he'd purchased for Peter's birthday, just by being the Sophomore's friend. It was an uneven relationship, because Harry clearly had much more to offer Peter than Peter could ever hope to give him in return. And he felt guilty that _this_ was how he was going to repay Harry for everything he'd done for him… By breaking up with him.

That's what it was, even if they hadn't been dating in the first place. Peter knew what Harry wanted, and it killed him just a little bit that he couldn't give his friend the relationship he desired. If he'd never met Wade, maybe… But he had. And things couldn't go on like this anymore.

So Peter was sitting in MJ's dad's diner ten minutes before he was due to meet Harry, nervously fiddling with a menu and trying not to think of all the possible ways Harry could react. He wasn't sure which would be worse: if Harry was hurt and angry and didn't want to be friends anymore, or if he was kind and understanding and continued to be just as generous to Peter as he always had been. He wasn't sure he'd be able to live with the guilt of that, but it was better than losing his friend entirely, right?

He knew MJ wouldn't come around to interrupt them. She was definitely not a morning person, and as such she never woke up before the latest possible moment necessary to get ready for school. So they'd be alone in this, for better or worse.

The minutes ticked by until it was 7am on the dot, and Peter watched the door like a hawk. But Harry didn't show. By 7:02, Peter was getting nervous. Harry was almost _never_ late for stuff (class aside, because he wasn't a big fan of school). Was he avoiding Peter on purpose? He got out his phone and checked his notifications, but there was nothing new. He was on the verge of calling his friend to ask where he was when Harry finally walked in at 7:08.

He crossed the diner quickly to their booth in the back and slid into the seat across from Peter, eyes hidden under dark sunglasses and a baseball cap. Harry never wore baseball caps. Was he hiding from someone? Peter peered carefully outside the front windows of the diner, looking for any sign that Harry had been followed. "You're late." He commented, tone harsher than he intended. He tried to sound softer, more relaxed. "You okay?"

Harry grabbed a menu and kept his head down, scanning the options even though he always got the same thing. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. My normal driver called in sick today and the new guy didn't know how to get here. It was a mess."

"Oh." Peter nodded slightly. "Is he okay?"

"Huh?" Harry glanced up, only to look back down again almost immediately.

Peter frowned. "Your driver. Is he really sick? Or is it just the flu or something?"

The Oscorp heir shrugged carelessly. "No idea."

Peter stared at him, confused by his friend's behavior. Harry wasn't usually so… harsh. His normal finesse and easy grace were missing this morning, and he sat hunched over his menu, hardly even looking at Peter. "Why didn't you drive yourself?" He asked, suddenly suspicious.

Harry shifted in what looked like discomfort. "My car is, uh, in the shop. It was making weird sounds when I drove it yesterday."

"You have like three cars, Harry. Why didn't you drive a different one?"

Harry made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and practically threw down his menu. "I don't know! I just didn't. God. I'm sorry I'm fucking late."

Peter stared at him in shock, hurt and surprise flickering over his features. "What—"

He was interrupted before he could finish his question, the usual morning waitress coming up to greet them and ask for their orders. She smiled a lot at Harry, like she usually did, but he ignored her, not even looking at her as he mumbled his order.

When she finally left, Peter leaned across the table towards his friend, intent on figuring out why he was acting so strangely. "What's with the hat and glasses, Harry?" He asked, figuring that it must have something to do with why he was acting so irritable and shifty.

Harry cringed backwards and kept his gaze on the table. "Nothing. I just… wanted to wear them." It was a weak excuse. He didn't even sound like he believed it himself.

"It's not even bright outside. Take them off." Peter ordered. Harry shook his head mutely, and Peter got a strange sinking sensation in his stomach. What the hell was he trying to hide? "Harry…" His tone carried a warning. He wasn't going to let this go.

Harry sighed heavily and, after a moment of hesitation, reached up, removing the hat first and setting it on the table. Peter watched as he reached for the glasses next, gaze still glued to the tabletop as he slowly slid them off.

Peter gasped, his eyes going wide when he could finally see Harry's whole face. His left eye was swollen partially shut, the skin around it almost black with a dark, vicious bruise that spread down over his cheekbone. When Peter looked closer, he could see a red spot on Harry's lip where it had clearly been split open.

"Oh my god. Harry!" He slid out of his seat and moved to Harry's side, taking hold of the older boy's chin and tilting his face up to look more closely. "What the hell happened to you?" He'd taken a beating, clearly. And a bad one at that, if the color and spread of the bruising was any indication.

Harry grunted and turned his head away, breaking out of Peter's grip. "Nothing, I… I, um, got mugged. Last night."

Peter swallowed, anger and guilt and horror warring for dominance in his chest. He should have been out there patrolling last night. He should have _stopped this_. Instead he'd been fucking around with his maybe-boyfriend and having a good time, no regard for the people who were getting hurt while he was shirking his duty as Spider-Man. "Where?" He asked, voice choked. "Why were you out somewhere you could get mugged?"

Harry's hands gripped restlessly at the edge of his shirt, almost nervously. "Just, um… I was out… I was, well, picking up… I needed to get… Food. I was picking up food and I'd parked… I parked somewhere else and I had to walk." Peter's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stared at Harry's poor, battered face, taking in the anxious expression and unfocused gaze. If he listened, he could hear Harry's heart pounding in his chest. He was… Afraid. Why would he be afraid now? Telling Peter that he'd been mugged? Why had he tried to hide it in the first place?

"Harry." Peter whispered, reaching out and taking hold of Harry's hand, cradling it between his own. "Tell me what really happened. Please."

Harry swallowed hard, and Peter could feel his hand shaking slightly in his grip. It sent a thrill of fear through him, seeing his usually unshakeable friend so on edge. "It was… I was just mugged." He repeated helplessly.

Peter lifted the hand he held to his lips and pressed a kiss into the back of it. "You're usually a great liar, Hare." He said quietly. "But you're doing a terrible job right now."

Harry let out a weak huff of a laugh and seemed to relax slightly, sitting back in the cushioned booth and letting his shoulder rest against Peter's. "It's… It's not that big a deal, okay? I don't want you to freak out."

Peter frowned, but nodded. "Okay."

Harry took a shaky breath. "I haven't been seeing much of my dad lately, and last night… He came home for just a minute, to shower and pick up clothes or something. He's been sleeping at the office. Or working, because I don't think he's been sleeping much. Anyway I… I confronted him about it. Told him he should see a doctor because he's been acting _really_ … Well… And he, um…"

Peter's jaw dropped open, horrified. "Your _dad_ did this?" He asked incredulously, anger rearing its ugly head in his chest.

Harry flinched slightly. "Keep your voice down. He… He's sick. He hasn't been himself lately. I don't think he meant to…"

Peter shook his head emphatically. "No. Don't make excuses for him. God, I can't believe…" This was awful. How could Norman have done this to his own son? He'd always been cold and distant, and frankly a bit creepy, but abusive? Peter had never gotten that vibe from him. And as far as he knew, this was the first time it had ever happened. "Harry, I'm so sorry." He pulled his friend into a hug, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders and holding him tightly. Harry breathed out heavily and buried his face in Peter's hair, returning the embrace.

"It's fine." He muttered, breath warm against Peter's head. "I'm fine. No big deal, okay?"

Peter felt his throat getting tight, tears rising to his eyes even as he tried to blink them away. Somehow _Harry_ had ended up comforting _him_. He was such a good… He was just so… He was Harry. And he was hurting right now. And Peter's heart would fucking break if he had to hurt him any more. He couldn't do it. Not today. Just… Not today.

He finally pulled away with a sniffle, wiping hurriedly under his eyes and hoping his tears hadn't been too conspicuous. "Do you need to come stay with me? I'm sure Aunt May would take you in. She loves you." He didn't spare a thought to the trouble it would cause Spider-Man, having someone else living with him. He just wanted to make sure Harry was okay; save him from whatever fucked up situation he'd landed in.

Harry smiled indulgently, a warm glow entering his eyes as he reached up to ruffle Peter's hair. "That's sweet of you, Petey, but I'm okay. It's really not a big deal. And besides, you know my place is huge. I'll have no trouble avoiding him until he's more… Himself, again." Peter frowned, and opened his mouth to protest, to insist, to _something_ , but Harry cut him off. "Really. I'm fine. I promise, okay?"

Peter sighed, dropping his head onto Harry's shoulder. "Okay…" He conceded reluctantly. "But if it happens again, I swear to god I will kidnap you and keep you in my closet."

He could feel Harry smiling into his hair. "I think I can live with that." He murmured, his arms still wrapped around Peter's shoulders. He didn't let go until the waitress returned with their food. "You know." He spoke around a mouthful of French toast a minute later. "If you wanted to make me feel better, kiss my bruises and all that, you could come over tonight?"

Peter frowned, taking his time chewing a bite of toast so he could formulate some excuse. Harry took advantage of his silence to make his case. "I know you're busy. But I miss you. And it would be nice, you know, to have someone else around… Just for tonight." That rare, delicate vulnerability that Harry only ever seemed to show around him was breaking through the cracks in his words.

Peter looked at Harry, his heart clenching. If it would make him feel better, then there wasn't really a way he could say no, was there? And maybe this was a good thing. Like… One last night together. A sort of goodbye in case Harry didn't want to be friends after Peter ended whatever was going on between them. The thought made his throat feel tight. Yeah, one more night would be okay. For Harry. "Alright." He said with a small smile.

Harry's responding grin was almost blinding in its relieved pleasure. "Cool. We can watch a movie and order whatever we want for dinner! Oh, and do homework too, of course. That's important."

Peter couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah. It is."

He never told Harry what he'd wanted to talk about, and Harry never asked.

Tomorrow, Peter told himself. Tomorrow he would.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

He texted Deadpool during his first class, telling him that something had come up and they'd need to meet later than usual that night. He offered midnight as a tentative meet-up time. Then he let Aunt May know about his plans and made sure she was working the night shift tonight, making a note to follow her home at six in the morning. It didn't look like he'd get much sleep, but that was fine. When had sleep ever been a priority? Spiders didn't need sleep, right? Right.

At lunch, when MJ freaked out over Harry's face, Harry lied so smoothly about it that Peter couldn't help but be surprised. He was so convincing, telling MJ this story about two drunk guys who tried to steal his car while it was parked outside Mercy Hospital last night, where he'd been running an errand for Oscorp. He recounted in such detail how he'd walked up while they were trying to jimmy the lock, and one of them punched Harry, hard enough to knock him down. But then they'd run away because they were drunk and scared and probably not real criminals anyway. MJ was absolutely scandalized about it. Peter was stunned, wondering how Harry could manage this when he'd been so… Broken up, this morning. Was it because he couldn't lie to Peter? Or didn't want to? Or would Peter have been hearing this same story if Harry had had more time to prepare it before they met?

It left him with an unsettled feeling in his stomach, but he tried to forget about it by the time the end of school rolled around. Harry was completely back to normal as he drove them home, listening to music and chattering on about office drama and deciding between Columbia and Harvard. He'd been accepted to both (admittedly probably just due to his name and his father's position, because he had never gotten the highest marks in school), and he had to turn in a decision by next week. He was leaning towards Columbia, so he could stay in the city. Peter nodded along, but didn't express an opinion one way or the other; all he said was that they were both great schools.

A few weeks ago, he would have given anything to have his best friend stay in New York for the next four years. But now, especially with whatever was going on with his father, Peter wasn't entirely unconvinced that it might be a good idea for Harry to move away for a while, take a break from all the Oscorp exec-training and dealing with his dad. But at the same time, Peter couldn't help wondering if he only felt that way because he unconsciously wanted to get some distance from Harry, to make his own love life that much simpler. It was selfish and wrong if those were his motivations, and he tried not to feel too guilty about it. He wasn't telling Harry what to do one way or another; that should be his decision.

Harry insisted that they work on homework as soon as they got to his penthouse, so they could watch a movie later. Peter was happy to comply, even if he didn't have much that was actually due tomorrow. It was always nice to get ahead and take some pressure off his tight schedule for a few days. So they sat on one of the Osborn's luxurious leather couches and Peter worked on a chemistry lab while Harry struggled through his English paper (which was a day late, but Harry always managed to get extensions from his teachers). Peter, feeling a bit nostalgic at the possibility of this being the last time they hung out so freely, even offered to proofread Harry's work and let the older boy wrap his arm around his shoulders as he did so.

It was nice. It was just them, being friends, hanging out like they used to, and it made Peter ache just a little. But he smiled through it and tried to just enjoy their time together. They ordered pizza for dinner, because what sort of teenage boys would they be if they chose to eat anything else during a sleepover? They gorged themselves, of course, and were discussing whether they should watch the original Blade Runner or re-watch The Hangover 2 while they cleaned up after themselves.

Harry was putting their dishes in the sink while Peter leaned against the counter, listing off the sociopolitical ramifications of the original release of Blade Runner in 1982, when Norman walked in.

He froze by the stainless-steel refrigerator, tucking something into his pocket when he noticed the boys in the kitchen. Peter immediately stepped between Harry and his father, his hands instinctively clenching into fists at the sight of the man who had hurt his friend. Norman stared at him, and the moment Peter's eyes met that pale, cold gaze, an alarming shock of fear ran down his spine. He swallowed, fingers inching towards the web shooters hidden beneath his jacket sleeves, heart stuttering into a faster pace as his body registered the feeling that he was in danger.

It wasn't a feeling he'd gotten from Norman Osborn before, no matter how creepy or cold the man seemed. Peter's eyes roamed over his face, noticing that he'd changed. It wasn't just his gaze, which now glittered manically with a sharp edge that had never been there before. His face looked gaunt, cheeks sunken in as if he'd lost weight, and he was unshaven, which was highly unusual for the billionaire businessman. He still stood tall and intimidating, still wore the expensive suit pressed to perfection, but there was a tension in the lines of his body that made him seem off kilter. Dangerous. Not himself. Seeing him like this, Peter could believe that Harry was right in saying the man was sick.

Harry eased himself in front of Peter, breaking the extended eye contact between them, and slipped his hands into his pockets, radiating a calmness that Peter couldn't believe given the situation. "Hey, dad. I didn't think you'd be home."

Norman seemed reluctant to shift his eyes from Peter, to focus instead on his son, who still bore the terrible marks of his father's abuse, black and blue stark against the paleness of his face.

Norman just hummed noncommittedly and turned to open the fridge, taking out what looked like a homemade protein shake in a clear plastic bottle. There was a smoothness to his movements that was… Unsettling. There was silence in the room as he uncapped the bottle and took a sip, eyes flickering again to Peter, causing an uncomfortable tingle at the back of his neck.

Harry cleared his throat. "I asked Peter to stay over tonight. Is that okay?"

Norman didn't look away from Peter's face, a slow, chilling smile pulling the corners of his mouth up in an unpleasant manner. "Oh, yes. Yes, that's just fine. You're always welcome here, Peter Parker." He chuckled low in his throat, turning away from them and disappearing down the hall. As he went, his chuckling grew to laughter, the tone of it manic and uncontrollable, making the hairs on Peter's body stand on end.

He swallowed hard as the sound faded away to the other side of the large suite, perhaps even to another floor. "Oh my god." He turned to Harry. "How long has he been like that?"

Harry shrugged, avoiding Peter's eyes as he picked up a towel and started wiping nonexistent crumbs off the counter. "I don't know. It's gotten worse over the past couple weeks."

Peter frowned, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty that he hadn't come over to hang out with Harry sooner. If he'd seen what Norman was like, noticed the warning signs, maybe he could have done something. Maybe he could have saved Harry from this. "I'm so sorry." He crossed to Harry's side and wrapped his arms around the older boy's waist, pulling him into a hug. Harry returned the embrace with a soft sigh, and Peter could feel the tension bleeding out of his body.

"It's okay."

But it wasn't. "Do you know what might be causing this?" Peter asked gently, resting his forehead on Harry's shoulder.

He felt Harry shrug. "It could just be stress, overwork…" But he didn't sound very convinced of that. After a moment, he sighed again. "There's some stuff… Some projects at Oscorp. They're not… They've got him pretty worked up, and they're… Controversial."

Peter pulled back a little to look at Harry. "What do you mean?"

Harry shook his head apologetically. "I can't tell you details. Because of legal stuff. Especially since you work there, but… It's just…" Peter could tell Harry was upset about this, even if he was trying to sound calm. He had that little crease between his eyebrows that he always got when something was bothering him. "Dad's pushing really hard to move forward with this stuff. It's like he's really invested in it. Way more than normal. More than just… For business."

Peter frowned, but held himself back from doing anything other than nodding. He didn't want to push Harry about something he wasn't allowed to talk about. It sounded suspicious, though, and he could tell Harry didn't feel right about it. He'd have to look into it on his own.

Harry had fallen silent, his gaze distant and a light frown on his lips, so Peter squeezed him lightly before stepping out of their hug, grabbing Harry's hand instead. "Wanna watch that movie?" He offered with a small smile, a shameless attempt to distract Harry from his worries.

Harry didn't seem to mind. He nodded easily and smiled in return. "Yeah. We can watch Blade Runner if you want."

Peter grinned, tickled as always by Harry's generosity. "Naw. Let's do The Hangover; it'll be nice to watch something funny."

Harry agreed, and they got set up in the movie room with popcorn and soda, the whole shebang. By the end of the movie, they were cuddled up on one end of the couch, Peter settled comfortably between Harry's legs with his back to Harry's chest, held close inside the confines of Harry's arms. He knew he shouldn't be encouraging this sort of behavior, but he found himself clinging to every moment of closeness they shared, knowing that it was going to end soon.

They were both tired, and it was after eleven anyway, so they agreed to go to bed. As they stood in the hallway outside the movie room, Harry took Peter's hand, stopping him from heading towards the guest rooms. Peter looked at him questioningly.

When Harry met his gaze, his eyes were bright with that rare vulnerability, his usual mask cast aside, his heart laid bare on his face. "Will you…" His voice was soft. Peter's heart pounded in his chest. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

Peter stood frozen for a moment, staring up into Harry's hopeful, nervous, passionate blue eyes. He knew he should say no. But if they kept it innocent, if they just wanted to be close for one last night… He couldn't turn away from that. He couldn't take that away from Harry, too. "Okay." He whispered.

Harry smiled, slow and soft and so full of… _something_ , it made Peter's breath hitch. "Okay." He repeated. He held onto Peter's hand as he led them to his room. It was big, bigger than the guest rooms, but messier too. It was lived in, with Harry's books and CDs and a few posters on the walls. A desk covered in papers and drawings that MJ had made. On the wall above the desk was a framed photograph that Peter had taken the previous summer and given to Harry because the older boy had said he liked it. The carpet was soft and the walls were blue, the sheets grey. Next to the large bed were the comic books Peter had gotten him for his birthday a few months ago.

Harry didn't talk much, just gave Peter a pair of his sleep pants and offered to take turns getting ready in his bathroom (it was huge, attached to the room, and the shower was unreal. Peter secretly hoped he'd have time to try it out in the morning). Peter found himself sitting nervously on the edge of the bed while Harry got ready, chewing on his lip and wondering if Harry had a preferred side of the bed. He took his glasses off and set them on the bedside table, taken aback slightly at how domestic they looked sitting next to a glass of water and Harry's expensive alarm clock.

The awkwardness abated somewhat when Harry returned. He turned out the lights and easily pushed the covers aside to slide into bed across from Peter, patting the pillow next to him to indicate that Peter should lay down. He did, sighing softly as he felt how soft the sheets were and how comfortable the mattress was. Harry shifted closer and, after just a moment of hesitation, wrapped his arms around Peter, drawing him back against his chest.

Peter squirmed slightly to get comfortable, settling his head on the pillow and relaxing into the warmth of Harry's body and the soft, ticklish feeling of his breath on the back of Peter's neck.

This was okay, right?

It felt okay. Nice, even, just to be held. Harry wasn't nearly as warm as Wade, and his much thinner arms didn't make Peter feel safe and protected in the same way, but it was okay. He smelled faintly of expensive cologne and toothpaste and Harry, and it was okay.

"Goodnight." Harry murmured, the word brushing against Peter's skin like a kiss.

"Goodnight, Harry." Peter breathed back. He let his eyes slip closed, but he couldn't let himself sleep. Even if he did feel much more comfortable than he'd expected.

He relaxed and listened to Harry's breathing, waiting for it to grow slow and even as he started falling asleep. After a minute or so, though, he could feel Harry taking a deep breath against his back.

"Peter?" His voice was soft, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause. "Thanks for staying with me." Peter swallowed against the sudden tightness in his chest.

"Of course." He breathed.

Another minute or so passed, but he couldn't hear any changes in Harry's breathing. In fact, when he listened, he could hear the older boy's heart beating fast in his chest. He heard Harry swallow.

"Peter?" His voice was barely a whisper now.

"Yeah?" Peter whispered back.

"I love you."

Peter swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He thought maybe his hands were shaking as he twisted around in Harry's arms, turning to face him. He could barely make out his face in the dark, but he could see the gentle light of his eyes. "I love you too, Hare." He breathed, throat aching with a sudden fierceness that took him by surprise.

Harry seemed to breath out a gentle, relieved sigh, tipping his head forward to rest against Peter's. Peter let them stay like that for a minute, but when his eyes were starting to burn and it felt like he might cry, he twisted back around so his back was against Harry's chest again. Harry just held him closer. He didn't talk again after that, but Peter could feel him relaxing, his heart beat slowing, his breath evening out.

Just as Harry slipped below the surface of sleep, his breath turning heavy and slow, Peter blinked and hot, salty tears spilled across his cheeks.

He waited another few minutes before carefully disentangling himself from Harry's hold, listening hard to make sure he stayed asleep as Peter slipped out of bed on silent feet. He grabbed his backpack off the floor, slipped his glasses into the front pocket, and left as quickly and as quietly as he could, making sure that no light from the hallway fell across the bed as he slipped out of the room. He made it all the way to the kitchen, where he was sure Harry couldn't hear him, before a small, ragged sob broke free of his chest.

He bent over the granite countertop and pressed his fists into his eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths as a few more broken sobs crawled their way up his throat. He didn't know why. He just felt as if this deep, gripping sense of loss had surged up out of nowhere, springing into existence and washing over him as soon as he realized how Harry really felt.

Because he would never have that. And he could never give it to Harry in return.

He got himself under control after a minute, forcing the tears to cease and burying the knot in his stomach. He couldn't deal with that right now. He couldn't deal with it ever, because it wasn't his to have. And he was going to be late.

He found his way to the nearest guest bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, then scrounged in the kitchen for paper and a pen to leave Harry a note in case he woke up before Peter got back. He just said that he couldn't sleep and had gone on a walk. Then he made his way to the elevators and let himself out, trying to shake the fog from his mind and focus on what he was doing now.

He was going to see Wade. He had chosen Wade. He needed Wade.

He walked a couple of blocks away from Harry's high scale apartment building before finding an empty alleyway and changing into his Spider-Man suit behind a dumpster.

It was close to 12:30 by the time Peter landed on their rooftop, and the sight of Wade pacing around in his Deadpool suit, chattering to himself, filled Peter with so much relief that his knees felt weak. He didn't hesitate to fling himself at Wade, not caring if he caught the mercenary by surprise when he practically leapt onto him, wrapping his arms and legs around that body, so much larger and warmer than he'd remembered, and clinging tightly.

Wade grunted in surprise, but immediately wrapped his arms around Peter in return, hardly stumbling at all. "Hey, Baby Boy. You okay?"

"Missed you." Peter mumbled truthfully into Wade's shoulder, taking deep breaths and feeling the tension draining out of him.

Wade rubbed a hand in slow circles across Peter's lower back, calming him down even more. "Bad day?" He asked sympathetically.

Peter nodded into Wade's shoulder.

"Does it have to do with that thing that came up tonight?" Wade's tone was careful as he asked, as if he were wary of overstepping his bounds, and Peter clutched him tighter. He wanted to tell Wade everything.

"Yeah." He breathed. "My friend… He got hurt."

Wade just held him even closer, arms tightening around Peter with a strength that made him feel like he'd be safe forever. "Is he okay?"

Peter nodded again, grateful and amazed and so fucking in love with Wade because _that's_ what he asked. Not what happened, or why Peter had to stay with him. He just wanted to make sure Spider-Man's friend was okay. "Thanks, Wade." Peter whispered.

"What for, Baby Boy?" Wade sounded surprised.

Peter pulled back slightly, unwrapping his legs from around Wade's waist and sliding down until his toes touched the ground so he could look into Deadpool's eye patches. "Thanks for worrying about me. And… And taking care of me. Spending so much time with me. I hope… I hope I haven't taken up _too_ much of your time…" Not that he would rather Deadpool spend his time taking hits and killing people for money. But he didn't want to be a burden.

Wade shook his head emphatically, keeping his arms wrapped around Peter's waist and holding him close. "No no no, Spidey. Absolutely not. I _want_ to take care of you. Fuck, I…" Wade cut himself off, ducking his head for a moment to hiss viciously under his breath. " _No_ , White. Shut your fucking mouth. We _do_." He turned back to Peter with a soft sigh. "I'll always worry about that beautiful ass of yours, Baby Boy."

Peter couldn't help but grin, something light and joyful unfurling in his chest. He started to reach up for Wade's mask, wanting nothing more than to kiss him right that moment, but a faint sound from somewhere far away made him freeze.

He cocked his head to the side, trying to listen harder. Something had caught his attention. Something out of place. If he could just… Ah, there! Peter stiffened, his blood running cold as some primal part of him recognized the sound before he fully registered what it was.

"What's wrong?" Wade asked with concern, observant as ever.

Peter swallowed, fighting against a shudder that threatened to run down his spine. "I don't…" There it was again. And with a rush of panic, Peter realized what it was. "He's back." He breathed, hesitating for only a heartbeat before he pulled away from Deadpool and started towards the edge of the roof, ready to chase down the source of that chilling mechanical laughter.

"Wait!" Wade grabbed his wrist, stopping him before he could jump over the edge and swing away. "You're not going on your own." His tone was threatening, demanding, leaving no room for disagreement. "I won't let you."

Peter hesitated, a selfish part of him wanting to leave Wade behind to make sure he wouldn't get hurt. But Peter's rational side realized that was stupid. Wade couldn't die. And Spider-Man wasn't a self-sacrificing idiot who would walk into certain death just because he refused to get anyone else involved. Well… He might be, but not with Wade. Not right now. Not when he knew Deadpool wouldn't hesitate to knock him out just to keep him from going off on his own and putting himself in danger.

"Okay." Peter decided quickly, wrapping one arm around Wade's waist. "Hold on to me." He led them to the ledge and shot a web, heart pounding. It was harder to swing while holding onto a man that was six inches taller than him and probably a hundred pounds heavier. He wasn't traveling as quickly as he liked, but the periodic peels of unnatural laughter sounded like they were getting closer. He realized he was heading into Queens, and his stomach sank.

Of course. The Goblin knew where he lived.

When he knew he couldn't be more than a block away, he landed in front of a convenience store just two streets over from his apartment building and dropped Wade off. "Can't be hindered when I engage him." He said shortly, too stressed to try to put it delicately, feeling the urgency of the situation. Wade seemed to understand. Peter grabbed Deadpool by his katanas straps and pulled him down so their faces were almost touching. "No. Killing." He said firmly.

Deadpool hesitated, but nodded stiffly after a moment. Peter wasn't sure he believed that Wade would hold back if it came down to it, but he hoped that Spider-Man's urgings would be enough to make him reluctant to take the kill shot.

Peter swallowed, shoving back the panic that was churning in his stomach, and pressed a short, hard kiss onto Wade's mouth through their masks.

He pulled away quickly and shot another web, swinging around the corner before Wade could say anything.

He needed to take care of this. It needed to end tonight.

Since it was the middle of the night in Queens rather than Manhattan, there wasn't anyone around. Peter counted his lucky stars that no bystanders would get hurt by accident. And there he was, just a couple of blocks from Peter's apartment, hovering above the street like some massive, deadly insect. Peter landed on the side of a building halfway down the block, knowing he didn't have long before the Goblin knew he was there.

As Peter watched, the Green Goblin shot something off the front of his hover sled and the sandwich shop across the street exploded in a burst of flame. A fresh peal of maniacal laughter filled the air. Peter's mouth flooded with the bitter taste of fear and anger, eyes flickering to two other ground-level shops that were already aflame, glass and other debris blown out onto the street. At this rate, there _would_ be a civilian crowd. And soon. Not to mention firefighters and other emergency personnel. Peter needed to get the Goblin away from here so no one would get caught in the crossfire.

Wade had caught up to him and was standing on the street below, katanas already drawn. Peter jumped down and landed beside him, feeling a small surge of pleasure somewhere deep beneath the panic and anger when Wade didn't flinch at all. "Make sure no one's in those buildings, okay? Evacuate anyone staying where the fire might spread." Wade turned his head to stare at Peter, and it was clear he was going to protest, but Peter didn't give him the chance. "Please. I need to know everyone's safe." He shot another web and took off, not wanting to give the Goblin time to blow up any more businesses. Or, god forbid, someone's apartment.

"Hey, Green Giant!" Spider-Man called out with more confidence than he felt, grabbing the villain's attention as he landed on a nearby rooftop. "Aren't you supposed to be growing beans or something? I mean, this new hobby of yours doesn't seem very nurturing. Are they gonna let you keep your job at the vegetable farm?"

The Green Goblin's response was nothing more than a dark, metallic chuckle that made Peter's skin crawl. He rose to Peter's level, twirling a bat-shaped throwing knife between his fingers. "Itsy. Bitsy. Spider." He almost purred the words, voice on the sharp edge of laughter. "What a lovely surprise. Oh- But you live around here, don't you?"

Peter's stomach sank at the confirmation that this location was no coincidence. He didn't waste any more time, not wanting to give the Goblin a chance to unmask him or take off towards his building. And thank god Aunt May wasn't home right now. He shot a web at the Goblin's sled, hoping he could end this quickly, but the villain swerved out of the way with stunning speed.

"Oh no _no_ , little spider. That's not very nice. Have you never been taught proper manners?" He threw the knife, followed by several more, and Peter dodged them all, aided by his Spidey sense. The Goblin just laughed, having expected as much. He began to fly in dizzying circles above Peter's head, and Peter did his best to land a web on the hover sled but the Goblin always seemed to be a half second ahead of him.

"I always wondered why Spider-Man's only weapon is some harmless webbing." He called down. "But now I know. It's because you're a good little high school boy, isn't it, Peter Parker?" Peter's breath caught, and his next web missed the Goblin by at least three feet. He glanced reflexively down towards the street, where he could see Wade ushering some people out of one of the burning buildings. It looked like he was too far away to hear what was being said.

The Goblin took advantage of his momentary distraction, sweeping down in an instant and grabbing Peter by his biceps before he could duck out of the way. His face, a mask out of some nightmare with large yellow eyes and a distended grin, pressed close to Peter's. "Your boyfriend doesn't know who you are, hm?" His voice was filled with a perverse glee. "Oh, that's so… Ironic."

Peter panicked, cursing himself for allowing the Goblin to get his hands on him, for letting his concern about his identity compromise his focus. He struggled against the Goblin's hold, and when his arms remained pinned to his side, he kicked out, not holding back this time.

The Goblin grunted, jerking backwards slightly, but kept his hold on Peter. Encouraged by the knowledge that he _could_ hurt this superhuman villain, Peter struggled harder. He kicked out again, and again, and tore one arm out of the Goblin's hold. Then he punched him, aiming for his neck because it looked like the mask doubled as a helmet of some sort and Peter didn't want to break his hand. The Goblin turned so he hit his shoulder instead.

It was a messy struggle, Green Goblin using his strength and reflexes to hold onto Peter and Peter doing everything he could to knock him down. After the Goblin got in a good punch right across Peter's left cheek, making his head spin, Peter shot a web at the mask's eyes. With the Goblin momentarily blinded, he was able to tear his other arm free. He raised his foot and kicked, hard, finally knocking the villain off his hover sled.

The Goblin fell to the ground, tearing at the webbing on his face, and Peter didn't hesitate to leap after him, immediately shooting more webs to pin him to the rooftop. But the Goblin rolled away, faster than Peter thought possible, and was on his feet again in an instant. "No, no, no. Absolutely not. Unacceptable behavior, Mr. Parker. I'm very disappointed in you." He sounded angry beneath the false light tone he was putting on.

Not wanting to miss this opportunity, Peter didn't hesitate to engage the Goblin again, hoping he could subdue him now that he was off his sled. He'd managed to pin Deadpool down, and that was without his webs.

But the Green Goblin was faster than Deadpool. He dodged everything Peter threw at him and was landing hits on Spider-Man, hard ones that were sure to leave bruises. Peter got in one lucky kick to the villain's stomach, sending him stumbling back, and the Goblin growled.

"Enough." His voice had lost all of its amusement, and the sound of it sent a sharp tingle down Peter's spine. "I'm done playing around, stupid spider." He was on Peter in an instant. Peter struggled again, not willing to let the Goblin get a good grip on him, but all of a sudden a sharp burst of pain tore through Peter's body.

He convulsed, limbs going weak as his muscles clenched and unclenched, and the Goblin threw him to the ground, pinning him there. The pain ended, but Peter felt weak and out of focus, and when he tried to push against the Goblin's hold it felt like his muscles were too fatigued to work as they normally did.

Electrocuted, his brain supplied for him. God, how had he forgotten about that?

The Goblin leaned over him, pressing his terrifying face close to Peter's again, and Peter tried to flinch away. But the villain wrapped his fingers around Peter's neck and shook him, slamming Peter's head against the ground and forcing him to meet his eyes. "You've been under my nose this whole time, Peter Parker." He hissed. "So clever of you. So… sneaky. Such a sneaky spider. Well… Even sneaky spiders get squashed eventually."

He started to squeeze, cutting off Peter's air supply, and the dazed cloud in Peter's head dissipated all at once. He went tense, adrenalin flooding his muscles with the energy to fight back, and kicked uselessly at the open air beneath him. He grabbed the Goblin's wrist and tried to tear him off, but his grip was too tight. He was too strong.

As Peter's chest was starting to feel tight, his lungs burning with the lack of oxygen, the Goblin released, just a little, just enough for Peter to gasp one shallow, desperate breath of air.

"Don't worry." He chuckled dangerously. "I'm not done with you yet, Spider-Boy." His chuckle grew into a laugh that made Peter struggle even harder, real fear clenching at his heart. He leaned in closer, mechanical voice almost an intimate murmur in Peter's ear. "Say hello to your dear little friends for me, will you? The lovely Mary Jane Watson and Harry Osborn. I hear they quite adore you."

Peter went pale with dread. With a huge surge of panicked anger, he drew both his legs up and managed to leverage them against the Goblin's chest, kicking him away. "Leave them the fuck alone!" He yelled, voice hoarse with damage and fear.

The Goblin just laughed. Before Peter could rush at him, pin him down and beat him until there was no way he could ever hurt MJ or Harry, gunshots started ringing through the air, making Peter flinch away from the deafening sound. Wade must have climbed the fire escape, and he was striding across the roof towards them, firing shot after shot at the Goblin, deadly fury rolling off of his body in waves.

The Goblin growled in anger, but the bullets seemed to be bouncing off the plates of his suit, denting it badly but otherwise leaving him unharmed. Peter was sure Wade could find a way around that, but before he could try the Goblin was leaping on his hover sled and taking to the air, almost instantly moving out of their reach.

"Control your attack dog, Spider-Man." He called out behind him, already speeding down the street. "Otherwise I might decide to pay your friends an early visit!" His voice was fading fast.

Wade raised his gun again, taking a moment to line up a shot, but Peter quickly grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"I wasn't taking kill shots." Wade assured him, voice tight with pent up tension and anger. Peter shook his head. It didn't matter.

"Is everyone okay?" He asked roughly, craning his head to see onto the street below. The Goblin was gone, and Peter was sure he wouldn't come back tonight. He'd accomplished what he'd come to do; scaring the hell out of Peter Parker. It looked like everyone was fine. There was a small crowd milling about in the street, and as he watched, two firetrucks pulled up, sirens blaring. The noise would undoubtedly attract more people.

"Yeah." Wade answered superfluously, voice softer than before. He reached out for Peter's arm and Peter flinched.

Wade froze, hand extended, and Peter immediately felt guilt settling in his stomach. "Sorry! I'm sorry, I just…"

Wade shook his head, reaching out again to gently pull Peter into his arms. "It's okay. It's okay, Spidey."

Peter took a deep, shaky breath and buried his head in Wade's chest, whimpering slightly when the movement sent a jolt of dull pain through his nose. Wade pulled back slightly, raising a hand to curl his fingers under Peter's chin and lift his face. "Are you hurt?"

Peter swallowed thickly. "Just my nose, I think." His throat felt sore and his head ached, too, but he didn't want Wade to worry.

Wade didn't try to lift his mask, and for that Peter was grateful. "Let's get you cleaned up." He said softly, wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulders and leading him to the fire escape on the far side of the roof, where they could climb to the ground unseen by the crowd below.

Peter felt a little out of it as he followed Wade to one of his safe houses, stopping at a run-down building only a few blocks from where they'd started. At some point, it had started raining lightly. His thoughts felt cloudy, although his heart was still pounding like he was in the middle of a fight. It was a strange and uncomfortable combination.

Wade was silent except for a few muttered 'yes' and 'no' and 'shut up' responses to whatever was going on in his head. He led Peter up the stairs and unlocked the door to an apartment on the third floor, stepping back to let Peter in first.

It was cleaner than the other apartment that Peter had been to, that time they played Mario Cart. It looked empty and unlived in. Wade sat him down on the threadbare couch in the living room and left Peter to stare down at his hands, sitting limply in his lap.

He'd let the Goblin go again. He'd lost. Again.

He'd failed and now MJ and Harry were in danger. Because of _him_.

He felt the panic welling up, bringing tears to his eyes. His hands were shaking.

Before he could break down, before the sobs that were building in his chest could crawl up his throat, Wade came back. He sat down next to Peter and took his arms, gently turning the teenager to face him. Peter's gaze latched onto the white patches covering Wade's eyes, and he stared through his mask, wishing he could see them. Wade reached up slowly and tenderly rolled Spider-Man's mask up until it rested on the bridge of his nose. Then he produced a washcloth and began to carefully, ever so softly, clean Peter's skin. The cloth was warm and damp, and Peter didn't even realize he'd been bleeding until he saw the red stains on the washcloth from the corner of his eye.

Wade worked intently for a minute or so, all of his attention focused on wiping the blood away as gently as possible. Peter's nose didn't hurt once. Finally, he drew the cloth away and set it down beside them. His other hand had landed in Peter's lap at some point, and their fingers were tangled together. It was quiet except for the faint sound of rain and the slow, steady sound of Wade breathing. Peter realized that he'd unconsciously synced his breath to Wade's, and the slow inhales and exhales had brought his racing heart back to a calmer pace.

The knot of terror and guilt in Peter's chest had faded away to nothing. Even if he looked for it, while Wade was here, with him, he couldn't find it. He was just… Numb.

Peter delicately disentangled his hands from Wade's and found the edge of the mercenary's mask with his fingers. He rolled it up and slid his hands down to wrap gingerly around the back of Wade's neck, staring at his mouth for a few quiet moments before leaning in.

The kiss was sweet and soft and so careful it made Peter's head spin. Wade's arms wound around his waist and cradled him closer, his touch so gentle that Peter didn't feel a single one of his bruises.

After a minute, when Peter felt like he might melt into Wade's body and never leave if they kept on like this, he pulled back and let his forehead rest against Wade's. Their breathing was still slow, and Peter made sure that the rhythm fell into synchronization again. They stayed there for a while, just like that. And Wade was so warm. And Peter felt so safe.

Despite everything, Wade made him feel safe.

"Wade." He whispered, fingers tightening slightly at the back of his neck.

"Hm?" Wade hummed softly, and Peter wondered if he had his eyes closed.

"I want to tell you who I am."

Wade was still for a moment before slowly pulling back, and Peter knew that he was searching Spidey's face.

"I want to tell you who I am." He repeated. "And you might be mad, but I… I want you to know."

Wade was shaking his head. "No."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed in confusing, a small frown turning down the corners of his mouth. "No?"

"No." Wade raised one hand to cup Peter's face, his thumb stroking lightly over his jaw. "I don't want you to tell me who you are because you're scared. I want you to tell me when you _want_ to tell me."

Peter stared at him in surprise. "But that's the thing." He murmured, voice hardly above a whisper. "I'm not scared. Not when I'm with you."

Wade smiled a slow, warm smile. "I'm glad, Baby Boy." He leaned in to touch their foreheads together again. "But still. I want you to wait. Wait until this is all over and things are back to normal again."

Peter blinked, something warm and full of wonder trickling through his veins, warming his heart. "Okay." He breathed, tipping his head up to catch Wade's mouth in another soft kiss.

Wade hummed approvingly. They stayed there on the couch for a long time. Eventually, Peter crawled into Wade's lap and lay his head down on his broad chest, letting the feeling of Wade surround him until he didn't feel anything but content.

Things were fucked up. But as long as Peter had Wade, he knew it would be okay. He would be okay. Wade made him feel safe and happy. And he thought maybe they could be together forever. And as long as they were together, Peter would be okay.

And so even though the fear and the guilt and the worry came back when Peter left out Wade's window at 5:30 in the morning, they weren't overwhelming. Underneath it all, holding Peter together, was a sort of peace.

As long as he had Wade.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
Local God – Everclear  
Lyrics:  
Summertime Sadness – Lana Del Rey

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	12. Love Without Pain Isn't Really Romance

**Wade**

 **{Yellow}**

 **[White]**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

{WHYYYYYYYYY DIDN'T YOU LET HIM TELL US WHO HE IS? WHYYYYYYYYY?}

[You were right. We shouldn't let him get too close to us.]

{NOOOOOOOOO I WANT TO KNOOOOOOOW WHO OUR LITTLE SPIDER IS! I WANT TO SEE HIS PRETTY LITTLE FACE!}

[He'll just end up hurt. Or, more importantly, we will.]

{SHUT UP I HATE YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU AND YOU'RE WRONG!}

[Mature as ever, I see. It's nice to know some things never change.]

{YOU'RE JUST AFRAID, YOU BIG BABY! Afraid that we'll change when we get close to Spidey and we'll actually be _happy_ for once in our miserable fucking life. But you don't want us to be happy, do you White? You want us to stay miserable and alone forever and ever and ever and -}

"Alrighty, then! I think that's enough of that. Who wants to have a nice sing-along? Come on kids, it'll be fun!" Wade twirled Bea and Arthur through the air as he moved down the abandoned street, enjoying his pre-dawn stroll into the seediest part of town about as much as could be expected. He moved through the grey darkness as slick as a snake and as discreet as a really big and really red guy swinging around two cool-ass swords could be. At least no one was up this early in the neighborhoods where people weren't usually getting home from work until four or five in the morning.

{No no no no no no no no. White can't just get off on being an _asshole_ and never even own up to the consequences.} Yellow couldn't let it go, of course.

[What consequences? Since when have there ever been consequences?]

{Since now! Since I say so. Since Wade and I are actually on the same side for once and you're just being a stubborn stick up our ass for no fucking reason and sticks chafe like _shit_ on a sensitive -}

"My anaconda don't. My anaconda don't." Wade started rapping just to shut the boxes the fuck up. "My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun." He was pulling out the big guns with this one; he knew Yellow could never resist a rap-along to one of his all-time favorite songs. Sure enough, the argument was dropped in a heartbeat so Yellow could chime in with the first line of the verse.

{Boy toy named Troy used to live in Detroit!}

Wade nodded his head along, glad for the distraction. "Big dope dealer money, he was gettin' some coins."

{Was in shoot-outs with the law, but he live in a palace.}

"Bought me Alexander McQueen, he was keepin' me stylish." Wade kicked up one heel and flounced around a corner, one very familiar (and very grimy) bar springing into sight like an old friend. The kind of friend you only see when your life is shit and they just let you bitch and moan and feed your dark cloud of angst and murder-y rage issues. So, like, Wade's best friend forever basically.

{Now that's real, real, real.}

"Gun in my purse, bitch, I came dressed to kill!" Wade skipped towards the front doors of Sister Margaret's, sliding his beloved girls back into their sheaths.

{Who wanna go first? I had them pushing daffodils.}

"I'm high as hell, I only took a half a pill." He raised one foot to slam forward and kick the doors in. To his surprise, they didn't crash open with a satisfying bang like they usually did. Instead, they rattled inward just a few inches; enough for Wade to see a _very_ thick metal chain wound through the door handles and locked together with a heavy-duty padlock. So Weasel had finally wised the fuck up, huh? Well wasn't that just dandy.

{Oh _god_ that line always makes me so depressed. Remember when we could get high? Those were some good times. Good. Times.}

Wade could pick that lock, but that took time and finesse and he just wasn't feeling it this morning. He could also blow up the door with a grenade, which definitely appealed to him, but he didn't really want the firemen to get called (even if they were hot – get it? Hot?) because that meant police would be soon to follow. So, instead, he made his way around the corner of the building and started climbing up a drain pipe to one of the second-floor windows.

[Yeah, life is complete and utter shit now that we can't get high. I wish we could. I mean, you'd still look like radioactive vomit and annoy everyone you ever speak to but at least we would be able to get fucked up enough to just forget about all that!]

{Gee, thanks for the pep talk. Things haven't been so bad since Spidey, you know…}

[Don't start with that.]

" _You_ don't start with that. Go back to singing Nicki Minaj." He paused beside the window and reached out to test it. It wasn't locked.

[I hate Nicki Minaj.]

Wade gasped. "You take that back!" He lay one palm against the glass and silently slid the window open. Then, still holding onto the drain pipe with one hand, he swung his feet up and through the open window, sliding quickly and silently into Weasels bedroom and dropping to a crouch on the floor.

[I will not.]

{Go fuck yourself with a giant scorpion stinger you repulsive fraud of a disembodied voice. My fucking god, you disgust me.}

Wade listened for a moment, hearing only the quiet snores of a sleeping Weasel (and the voices arguing in his head). He turned around and slid the window closed again.

[It's called having standards. It means I don't like to listen to complete trash all the time.]

{You've gone too far, bitch. I'll show you trash.} Wade suppressed a groan as he straightened up and walked towards Weasel's bed, already knowing where this was going. {Cause baby, now we've got bad blood! You know it used to be mad love.}

[Oh, sweet Jesus…]

Wade sat down on the edge of the bed, sighing heavily. Still, he couldn't stop himself from humming along under his breath. It was hella catchy, after all.

{So take a look what you've done. Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!}

[Okay, okay. I take it back. Nicki isn't as trashy as this. Please just stop, okay?]

Wade grinned to himself, leaning over onto the bed to frame the lump of Weasel's body between his arms. "Now we've got problems." He leaned down to sing softly into Weasel's ear. "And I don't think we can solve 'em. You made a really deep cut." Weasel was shifting a little, clearly in the process of waking up, so Wade didn't hesitate to raise his voice. "And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!"

Weasel woke up with a start, his eyes going wide and a startled yelp tearing from his throat. When he saw Deadpool leaning over him, looming in the dark, he jerked backwards with a ragged gasp. Wade lifted one arm to let him go, grinning widely under his mask. Weasel shrieked, scrambling back until he fell right off the bed with a solid thump.

Yellow started laughing uncontrollably, and Wade chuckled along, rolling over to lay on his back where Weasel had been just a moment before, settling his masked head on the warm pillow.

"Jesus fucking hell on a stick what the fuck Wade?" Weasel sounded furious as he struggled to his feet, breathing heavily as if he'd just run here from somewhere.

"You should see your face!" Wade cackled.

{He's like AAAAHHH! Oh no, aaaahhh hahahaha classic…}

"Seriously, man, what the actual fuck? You can't just come into someone's bedroom in the middle of the night!"

"It's the morning, actually." Wade pointed to the alarm clock on the bedside table. The numbers six, two and seven were bathing a collection of beer cans in dull blue light. "And you really should start locking your window. I mean, that wouldn't have stopped me, but you _do_ run a bar for mercenaries so it's kind of just common sense."

Weasel picked up the alarm clock and threw it at Wade's head.

Wade knocked it aside with one hand. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You know what that was for, you asshole!" Weasel sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and started rummaging around on the bedside table for his glasses, knocking over all the empty beer cans in the process. He finally found them and put them on, then ran both hands through his greasy hair while taking a deep breath. "God, Wade. I really wish I could kill you sometimes."

{Ouch.}

"You and me both, buddy." Wade forced a cheerful tone into his voice as he pulled a butterfly knife from his belt and started playing with it.

Weasel reached back to shove Wade's boots off the end of the bed. Wade grunted slightly, swinging his legs back up to kick Weasel viciously in the small of his back.

"Ow! It's my fucking bed, you degenerate. I don't want your smelly crap all over it."

{Do we smell?}

[Probably. Wade's always a disgusting freak.]

Wade leaned his head to one side to sniff covertly at his suit. It didn't smell like much to him; maybe a faint hint of sweat, but it had been a long night! Not really his fault.

Weasel sighed and reached over to turn on a lamp, bathing them both in yellow artificial light. "What a lovely sight we make." He drawled, tone heavy with sarcasm.

"Whattaya say, ol' buddy ol' pal. Up for a romp between the sheets?" Wade patted the bed beside him suggestively.

Weasel gagged. "Ugh. I'm already hungover, I don't need _you_ to make me puke."

{Hey! He'd be so lucky as to get our fabulous dick in him…}

[Ew. You don't actually _want_ to fuck Weasel.]

{Well of course not… But it's the principle of the matter.}

"What'd you break and enter for, anyway?" Weasel stood up with a groan and started shuffling towards his bathroom, scratching unashamedly at the top of his ass-crack, which was exposed between his dirty t-shirt and boxer shorts. "You got info on the Weapon X copycats?"

Wade hummed an affirmative. "You always were a smart one, Weas." He waited until he heard the clink of the toilet lid and hiss and splash of urine hitting water to start in on the details. "Yes sirree, I got me some info. Nasty shit, too." He flipped his knife shut and tucked it away, pulling the red and black flash drive out in the same movement. "Guess one pesky little copy of Francis' work slipped through my fingers." His voice was tight with barely controlled rage.

{That flesh-melting British bag of dicks…}

"So who's got it?" Weasel asked over the flush of the toilet.

"Oscorp." He all but growled.

Weasel let out a low whistle as he walked out of the bathroom. "Tough shit, dude. Bet they can make all sorts of fucked up frankensteins with that. Hey! They could probably make clones of you!" Weasel staggered to a stop beside the bed and touched a hand to his chest. "Wow, I just scared myself. Can you imagine?"

Wade frowned down at the flash drive in his hand. "That's just what the world needs. More Deadpools."

{Hey, we're one of a kind!}

[Yeah, and good thing we are. I'm pretty sure the universe might implode if there were more than one deranged immortal fucking everything up literally all the time.]

"The scary thing is, I'm not sure if you're being sarcastic or not." Weasel sat back down on the edge of the bed and reached for one of the still-upright beer cans. He shook it hopefully, but it was empty. "Hurry up and get to the gory details, man. I'm going back to sleep as soon as I can get your ass-print off my bed."

Wade sighed. "They're taking it a step further. Not just kidnapping poor unsuspecting fucks and trying to force them to mutate. They're making creatures of their own this time. Genetic splicing shit. They're trying to figure out how to use mutant genes to make super soldiers, I guess. You know, the usual shit."

Weasel nodded slowly. "Makes sense. Genetics has always been the Oscorp specialty."

{How does he know that?}

[Wait… Didn't he work for Oscorp a long time ago?]

{Maybe in a different universe. Not this one.}

"Doesn't matter." Wade grunted. "Anyway, that's not all. As far as I can tell from the mumbo jumbo I stole off their hard drives," He waved the flash drive around in the air, catching Weasel's eye. "They've been trying to weaponized it. Make it into a potion or some shit. Something you can take. To give you super powers."

Weasel was definitely paying attention now, if he hadn't been before. "That could change everything."

"I know."

Weasel stared at the flash drive. "Let me look. I can probably understand the science shit a whole lot better than you." He held out his hand.

Wade hesitated for a moment, aware of the immense amount of power and danger that were stored inside that little piece of plastic and circuitry. Then, just a little reluctantly, he dropped the flash drive into Weasel's open palm. "Be quick about it."

Weasel was off like a, well… A weasel.

[Good one.]

He disappeared through the open bedroom door, leaving Wade to drag his tired body off the bed and follow him to his computer room down the hall. Wade had only ever seen it used for video games and book-keeping, but he knew that was where Weasel did all of his magical mercenary matchmaking, too. When he walked in, Weasel was already flipping through file after file of information, filling all three of his massive screens with data that Wade had barely made heads or tails of.

Wade stole a beer from the mini fridge and cracked it open, lifting his mask to sip at it as he leaned against the doorjamb. He watched Weasel's eyes moving quickly over the pages, numbers and formulas giving him no pause as he sped through it all. It made Wade wonder just how much he didn't know about his little rodent friend…

{It is kind of suspicious, isn't it? He always acts dumb, but…}

[We act dumb, too. But with the exception of you, Yellow, that's all it is. An act.]

{How do you know _I'm_ not acting?}

[Oh, spare me…]

"Jesus." Weasel had paused on a video clip. There was no audio, but that didn't make it any less graphic. Wade had seen it before, but he watched anyway as the man strapped down to the metal table was injected with some ominous green substance. The veins in his arm turned dark, distended, spreading from the injection point. Within a few seconds his muscles were tightening, straining against the restraints. And then he started screaming, his mouth falling open in silent agony, eyes wide with terror, veins in his neck popping obscenely. A few seconds after that, his flesh was melting away, literally steaming as blood and liquefied skin streamed down onto the stainless-steel surface beneath him. He stopped struggling maybe half a minute later, a half-decomposed mess of eviscerated flesh. A handful of scientists in white coats and hospital masks stood around taking notes on clipboards.

"Really gets your blood flowing, huh? There's about twenty more videos like that." Wade commented casually.

"I think I'll pass." Weasel clicked away from the video, sounding vaguely ill.

"At least it doesn't look like they've succeeded yet. These little experiments all seem to end in tears. Or, well, screaming, at least."

{Mm, sweet, sweet screams… Wish there was audio.}

Weasel shook his head. "Oh, no no. They got there." He clicked over to a page covered in formulas that was time stamped about a month ago. "Here." He pointed to something at the bottom of the screen. "It's stable, and replicable. These are directions for manufacturing it. They wouldn't do that if it weren't at least partially successful."

[God damn it Wade. I told you we should have blown the fucking building when we had the chance.]

Wade frowned, leaning in close to look at the screen even though he didn't know what he was looking at. "You sure?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely."

"Fuck." Wade's hands curled into fists. "Can you tell what it does?"

Weasel hummed as he started scrolling through more data. "Looks like… As far as I can tell, it's supposed to increase speed, stamina… Um, healing, but not like you obviously. Oh, strength, for sure. Agility, reflexes… I think that's it. Nothing weird like breathing fire or flying. It almost seems like it was the weird stuff that was messing it up. Incompatible with human DNA or something."

Wade grunted. "Thank gods for that." His eyes roamed over the screens. "Anything else?"

Weasel scanned through stuff for another minute or so, then shrugged. "Nothing of note, really."

"Good." Wade tossed the half-empty beer carelessly into a corner and held out his hand. Weasel closed out of the documents and removed the flash drive with a sigh, dropping it into Deadpool's waiting glove. Wade tucked it back into one of his pockets. "Now wipe it."

Weasel stared up at him. "Huh?"

"You heard me. Wipe the hard drives."

{Yeah, bitch.}

Weasel didn't move. "Oh, come on… I didn't- Wade I didn't save any of that. You think I'm an idiot?"

Wade glowered, his lips curling back to expose his teeth in a growl. "I. Said. Wipe it."

Weasel scoffed. "Jesus fuck, Wade! Don't you trust me? Come on, I'd lose all my work stuff. You can't just…"

Wade had drawn a nine millimeter and had it pressed to Weasel's forehead in an instant. "I know you back up remotely every night. Now wipe it or I put a goddamn bullet through your brain."

There was a moment of silence before Weasel cursed. "Fucking hell, man…" He turned back to the computer and started typing. "You're such a world-class dick, you know that?"

Wade just grunted, not lowering his gun until he watched Weasel key in the 'terminate' command and the screens blipped into blank blue nothingness.

"Well, thanks, lover. This has been a blast, but I gotta jet." Wade holstered his weapon and stepped out into the hallway.

"What're you gonna do?" Weasel called after him.

Wade paused. "Keep digging." They'd wiped all the names from their files, so he still didn't know who _exactly_ was involved. Smart bastards. He hated the smart ones.

"You're not just gonna go in guns-a-blazing and take 'em all out? Isn't that your usual style? I mean, with Weapon X involved I'd expect you to be planting bombs under the building, like, last week." Weasel had gotten up and stood in the doorway now, arms crossed over his chest.

Wade sighed, wiping a hand over his masked face, pulling it down over his mouth in the process. "I know someone who works there. A friend, you could say."

{The prettiest friend we've ever had!}

[Considering our only 'friends' are Weasel and Al, that's not saying much.]

{Shutup he's beautiful.}

"Hm." Weasel hummed thoughtfully. "You could use this friend of yours to get more info. Sniff out the guilty parties."

"No fucking way." Wade snapped, voice falling flat with anger.

Weasel raised his eyebrows. "Why not? Any in you can get is better than nothing, right?"

Wade grabbed Weasel by the front of his shirt and leaned down to get in his face. "I said no. So _drop it_."

"Okay, okay… Jeez. Cool your jets, man." Wade dropped him and Weasel brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt as he took a step backwards. "What's up with this friend, anyway? You don't usually care about using your friends to get what you want."

[Sounds like someone is bitter.]

{Bitter like a little jealous lemon!}

"Nothing." Wade hedged. "He's just a good kid, that's all. I'm not getting him involved."

[You already got him involved, remember?]

Weasel scoffed. "Good kid, eh? I'd bet you a million bucks he's pretty."

Wade just grunted in response, already walking back towards Weasel's bedroom. He couldn't make that bet, because he'd lose. Unless he won on a technicality because Peter wasn't pretty; he was _gorgeous_.

"I'm right! I know I'm right." Weasel chuckled, following along to watch as Wade crossed to his open window and started climbing back out again. "Have fun fucking your pretty little Oscorp treat! Maybe you'll get your info during pillow talk! Oh wait, never mind. No one wants to stick around after they fuck you."

Wade dropped a smoke bomb in Weasel's room before he dropped out of sight, twisting his ankle on the ground two floors below and setting off towards the rising sun.

{Oooooooh my… Can you imagine fucking Peter? That face, when he comes… Aaaaah fuck I can't even…}

"Shut up." Wade hissed. "We are definitely _not_ thinking about that."

They thought it about exactly that all the way back to Wade's current apartment.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wade had made a plan for breaking into Oscorp and doing some snooping. And it was a pretty good plan, in his humble opinion.

{The best, mothafuckas!}

[It's really not. You wrote 'climb in a window and look around' in red crayon on a piece of construction paper.]

"Hey! I also wrote 'avoid cameras and shit,' so it's better than you're making it sound." Wade waved vaguely in the direction of the fridge, where he had posted the plan, and continued to stuff hot friesTM into his mouth while he stared at the television. Golden Girls was on this afternoon.

[It's abysmal. You're losing your touch.]

{Ooh, you make that sound so nasty, White… Yum.}

[Shut up. Wade, you need to get off your ass and get to work. If you're not going to make a better plan, we might as well carry out this one. Now.]

"Yeah, okay." Wade didn't move, eyes glued to an infomercial for a wonder-mop that looked _fantastic_.

{How does it reach all those hard-to-reach corners? It's like magic!}

[Wade. This is pathetic. _You're_ pathetic. Weapon X is running rampant and you can't even get your shit together and take them out.]

{Hey, we're working on it! We have a plan.}

White made a disgusted noise. [You've gone soft, Wade. Just a couple of months ago you wouldn't have hesitated to blow the whole city sky high if someone even _breathed_ the words Weapon X in your general vicinity. Have you forgotten what they did to you?]

"Never." Wade snapped, hands clenching into fists around the bag of junk food in his lap.

[Then why don't you _do_ something about it?]

{Yeah, let's go kill those bastards… As soon as we know who's involved, they're dead as Wade's Daddy, right Wade?}

[Weak.] White hissed. [You don't need to be _careful_ … Just kill them all.]

Wade breathed in through his nose, jaw tight. "No, I… I need to make sure I only get the bad ones."

[Oh. I see.] White's tone was downright scathing. [You're just Spider-Man's pet now, are you? He says no killing, and you say no problem. He says jump, and you turn around and bend over. Is that how it is?]

{No! That's not true. We're not _not_ killing, right Wade?}

[Oh really? Then how come we haven't killed anyone in over three weeks?]

There was a pregnant pause. Wade held his breath.

{Hey… Why _haven't_ we killed anyone in so long?}

[Yeah, Wade. How come?]

Wade swallowed, apprehension settling in his stomach. "We just… We've been busy. You know, looking into stuff and helping Spidey. He's needed us."

[Yeah, but we've had the _time_. And no shortage of job offers.]

{That's true. Why haven't we taken any jobs lately?}

Wade scowled, shoving the bag of hot friesTM to the side and stomping away from the couch. "Just shut up about it. I'm calling the shots around here and I haven't felt like it. That's it. So drop it."

{Since when have we ever _not_ felt like killing? That's stupid, Wade.}

[Nicely said, Yellow. I think it's clear that Wade is just trying to cover his ass. He's been hoping we wouldn't notice that he's trying to be _good._ For Spider-Man. But he knows better than that, don't you Wade? You know we can never be good. Not good enough for him. Not good enough for anyone.]

Wade shook his head violently, grabbing handfuls of ammo from the kitchen table and shoving them into the pouches on his belt. "I'm not… That's not it. We've just been busy. Come on, we'll go now. Just drop it." He started for the door.

{Where are we going?}

[I would roll my eyes if I had any. You're so distractible, Yellow.]

{What?}

"We're going to see Al." Wade interrupted, grasping at straws for an adequate distraction.

[In your Deadpool suit?] White asked wryly.

"Ah, fuck." He turned back to go change into civvies.

[You're losing it, Wade.]

{This is what happens when you go so long without killing…} Yellow was definitely bitter now. {Hey, why don't we just go to Oscorp now?}

[Oh my god… Does everyone just ignore me when I talk?]

{No, stupid. I hear you. But now _you're_ not listening. I'm saying we should go to Oscorp.}

[Yeah, I know, I… You know what, never mind.]

"No. Not right now." Wade kicked his suit under the bed and grabbed the first pair of pants he could pick up off the floor.

{Why not?}

"Because you're distracting me. We need to be on top of our shit to pull off an Oscorp break-in."

[That's bullshit. We could do it in our sleep and you know it. You're just scared.]

{Why would he be scared? We won't let them get us. Not ever.}

Wade gritted his teeth, tugging on a sweatshirt and practically lunging for the door.

[That's not what he's scared of. He knows he wouldn't be able to resist… scratching the itch, should the opportunity present itself while we're snooping around.]

{You mean killing some evil scientists?}

[Obviously.]

{Why wouldn't he want to do that?}

[Why don't you ask him yourself?]

"Look, it's not an issue." Wade took the stairs two at a time, making his way down to the street. "We'll go tonight, okay? After the work day is over. Less people scurrying around the mothership. Easier to sneak in and out undetected."

Both of the boxes seemed anything but content, but they couldn't really argue with the logic of that plan. Twenty minutes and a crowded subway ride later, Wade was walking in the front doors of Queen's finest nursing home.

{Why are we here again?}

[Wade's lonely. And he can't stop thinking about Peter.]

"No I'm not, and shut up." Wade muttered under his breath, glancing around from under his hood at the nearly-empty lobby as he walked towards Al's wing.

{Oooooh Petey Pie! Do you think we'll see him?}

[He probably won't want to see _us_. Not after Wade made him cry the other day.]

The image of Peter's face, stricken with fear and guilt and sadness, tears glistening in those big brown eyes, flashed through Wade's mind and stole his breath away.

{Oh yeah. Fuck Wade, why do you have to be such an asshole? He's a good boy, and you just had to be mean to him.}

Wade didn't need the boxes to make him feel guilty as hell about it. But that other feeling was still there, that bitter sick ache in his stomach when he thought about Peter and _Harry Osborn_ kissing sweetly in Peter's basement office. He hadn't let himself think too hard about why he felt that way, but it was enough to make his heart sink when he thought of texting Peter to hang out again. So he hadn't. And he hadn't heard from the kid, either, so he probably was mad.

Wade rounded a corner and the nurse's station came into view. He slowed to a stop, heart suddenly thumping in his chest, because there was Peter, leaning so prettily against the counter and resting his head in his hand and such beautiful tousled brown hair and those jeans, and that…

{That ass. Mm.}

And he was talking to his Aunt May, who was gathering papers behind the counter and putting them into folders. Before Wade could turn around and run away like the coward he was, May spotted him over Peter's shoulder. A warm smile spread across her tired face and she raised a hand to wave Wade over. The lovely woman had only met him a handful of times, but she still treated him like a friend. He couldn't exactly turn his back on that.

So he took a deep breath and slowly made his way over, watching carefully as Peter straightened up and turned to face him.

He looked like shit. He was still drop-dead gorgeous, of course, but he looked exhausted. There were deep shadows under his bloodshot eyes, so dark that even the glasses couldn't hide them, and a sallow, sickly tint to his skin. When he saw Wade, a series of emotions passed over his features as clearly as words written on a page. Surprise, at first, and then something like relief. Wade couldn't be sure about that because it was quickly followed by guilt and a bit of sadness before Peter arranged his face into a friendly smile that would have looked totally authentic if Wade hadn't known any better.

"Hey." Peter said quietly when Wade came to a stop beside the counter. He sounded kind of hopeful.

Wade offered him a weak smile. "Hey, Peter."

He seemed to relax at that simple greeting, and Wade's smile turned a bit more genuine.

{Aw, he's just so cute and sweet and I just wanna rtyjukiujyhtgrfedwfh}

"Good afternoon, Wade. How are you today?"

Wade turned to give May a smile, too, because that woman deserved one more than anyone else in the goddamn world. "I'm alright, thanks. How are you?"

May practically grinned. "I'm just fine, thank you. You know, we were just headed back for some dinner. Peter was kind enough to come out and walk me home. Would you like to join us, Wade?"

Wade blinked at her in surprise, his mouth falling open for a moment as his mind flat-lined.

{Did we just get asked over to dinner?}

[Like at someone's house?]

{Like for a real meal?}

[Who would be insane enough to do that?]

"Um…" Shit, he was being weird. "That's really nice of you, Nurse May, but, I, um… I think…" He glanced at Peter, sure that he wouldn't want Wade to come over. Wade Wilson didn't belong in a regular home. He'd just… Knock things over. Or set the place on fire or something.

But Peter was looking at him with this hopeful expression that just broke his heart. "You should come! Please?" And _gods_ how could Wade say no to that face?

"Oh, well, since you asked so nicely…" Peter's face split into a blinding smile and Wade's insides melted just a little.

[That's a really bad idea.]

{No, it's brilliant! We'll get to see Peter's bedroom!} Yellow squealed, and Wade tried not to wince.

"Wonderful." May picked up a stack of folders and tucked them under one arm. "I'll just deliver these to the office and then we can… Oh, Wade. Were you going to go see Al?" She paused to look at him, frowning lightly.

Wade stared at her for a moment. "Hm?" Oh right. Blind Al. Like he'd go talk to her when he could spend time with Peter instead. "Oh, no. I just came from there. She kicked me out, actually, said I was talking too much during Judge Judy." Peter chuckled at that, and Wade couldn't help but grin.

May smiled, too. "Yep, that sounds like Al."

"That's Al, alright." Wade nodded. "She called me some nasty names, too. You know that old biddy's got a mouth on her? I wouldn't be surprised if she was a sailor in another life. Real creative stuff. Oh, like one time she called me –"

"Wade? Is that you?" Wade's gaze snapped to the hallway on their right, where Al stood frowning in their direction, wearing a purple track suit and holding a cane in one hand.

{Oh, shit… Good luck getting out of this one!}

"Uh… Nope! Got the wrong guy, grandma!" Wade shoved his hands in his pockets and tried not to look in her direction, even though she was blind so it didn't matter.

"Were you coming to see me, Wade?" She asked irritably.

Wade frowned. "Nope. No, I just you Al. Just now."

"No you didn't."

Wade scowled at her. "Yes. I _did_. Don't you remember?" He did his best to look concerned, but his tone had a slight edge to it. "You're losing it, old lady. You better be careful, or the next time I visit I might have to _remind you who I am."_

[We should do that. It's been too long; she's gotten too bold.]

{Ooh, yes, let's! We'll come take her on a little field trip and pull out some of the old toys.}

Al stared at him stonily, gaze unnervingly direct, but didn't say another word.

Wade forced a grin onto his face and turned back to Peter and May. "Alrighty, then. Shall we?"

May smiled gently. "You two head on outside. I'll just turn in my charts and meet you out front, okay?"

Peter nodded and May walked off in the opposite direction. There was a beat of silence before Wade and Peter glanced at each other. Their eyes met and they both smiled a little, trying to ease whatever tension had suddenly sprung up between them.

"Um…" Wade gestured towards the front of the building and Peter nodded again, so they started walking in that direction. Wade was acutely aware of the space between them as they walked, and how it fluctuated slightly with each step. The silence was unusual for them. Conversation usually came so easily, like breathing. Wade hated this awkwardness.

Peter finally spoke when they were almost to the front doors. "I know you didn't see Al today."

Wade's heart skipped a beat.

{Oh shit, he's mad!}

"Oh, well, I, um…" It was kind of hard to think of an excuse for that one. But when he glanced sideways at Peter, he didn't look annoyed or disapproving. In fact, he was looking at Wade kind of… Fondly. They'd stepped outside into the afternoon warmth, and Wade was suddenly distracted by the way the sunlight shone on the boy's chocolate brown hair.

Peter chuckled. "I was just chatting with her, actually."

"Oh." _Oh_. Fuck.

{Oh my god. Peter talks to AL?}

[That's not good.]

{Not good? That's terrible! Imagine all the things she could be telling him…}

[Horrible things.]

{Really fucked up shit. Remember when we forgot that she was in the Box and left her there for four days?}

"Yeah, she likes you a lot." Peter had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he leaned against the bricks beside the door.

"Huh?"

{That doesn't sound like Al.}

Peter laughed at what must have been a dumbfounded expression on Wade's face. "Well, she's never said as much. But I can tell. She talks about you a lot."

"Oh… What does she, um, say?"

"Nothing too horrible." Peter shrugged.

"Huh." Interesting. Another long moment of silence passed between them, and Peter seemed to be staring quite hard at his shoelaces.

"I'm sorry." He said out of the blue, causing Wade to blink at him in confusion.

"What for?"

Peter shuffled his feet slightly, still not looking at him. "The other day. With Harry… I'm sorry for how he acted. And me. I didn't handle that very well."

Oh. That. Right. Wade shrugged and flailed one gloved hand aimlessly in the air between them, trying to wave it all away. "Oh, that? Psh… Yeah."

Peter looked up at him, all wide eyed and concerned, and another heavy moment passed. Wade sighed. "No really. It's like fine. You know. It's cool." Peter still didn't look convinced, so Wade made himself smile a little. "Really. Please don't worry about it, okay? It's all good."

Peter nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, thanks. I want us to be okay."

Wade's throat felt suspiciously tight. "Yeah, Pete. Me too."

He didn't ask if Harry was Peter's boyfriend. He didn't want to know.

But after that, things were more comfortable between them. They chatted about how stupid Pokemon Go was and reminisced over Fire Red and Leaf Green (obviously the best versions ever). And when Aunt May came out to join them, they walked to the subway station and the conversation flowed with amazing ease. Wade tried to keep his cursing to a minimum, but May didn't seem to mind. She was like that cool Aunt that Wade never had (although she probably wasn't much older than him, really). It was all so incredibly… Normal. And Wade could almost forget those weird feelings he'd started having about Peter. Because this, just talking and joking and being _normal_ , it was all he ever wanted.

[But you're not normal.]

{You never will be.}

[And Peter should be kept away from all that shit. Just look at him.]

"Yeah." Wade did look at him. He stared as Peter unlocked the front door to their apartment and stepped aside to let Wade and May in, a soft smile underneath his tired eyes and cheeks slightly flushed with some beautifully innocent excitement that only the young and pure could feel.

{I want him.} Yellow's voice was heavy with longing.

[No.] White snapped. [We can never take him.]

And for the first time in a long time, Wade agreed with White.

It was strange to be inside a normal home, like having an out of body experience. There weren't empty beer cans or take-out containers piled on any available surface. The couch was clean, if a bit threadbare, and there were no weapons or pornographic images in sight. Not only that, but it looked _lived in_. There were books and magazines piled on the coffee table, movies on the bookshelf, and pillows on the couch. Peter's skateboard rested against the wall beside the door. It was all so _domestic_ , Wade thought he might pass out.

"Please, excuse the mess. I've been working late hours recently." May laughed indulgently and tossed her coat into a room just off the front hall; her bedroom, probably.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Wade made a show of looking around with wide eyes. "This place is gorgeous."

[Much better than our pigsty of an apartment. I can't believe you let Peter see that. He was probably horrified.]

May laughed again, tickled by the declaration. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. I know it's not much, but it's home."

"Of course." Wade glanced at Peter, who was staring at him with a gentle smile that gave Wade chills. This was _Peter's_ home.

"Well, you boys find something to do while I start dinner. You can come set the table in a bit." She made her way towards the kitchen, which Wade could see from here because the apartment was rather small. Like the rest of the place, it seemed a bit old but generally well-kept and clean. Wade was glad Peter had a home like this.

"Wanna see my room?" He glanced back at Peter, and the boy's eyes shone with something almost teasing. Wade was reminded of kids going over to each other's houses for the first time. The nervous excitement of showing off your room. Of course, Wade hadn't had many friends as a child, but he was familiar with the concept. It was quite adorable on Peter.

{Ooooh can you imagine him as a little boy? God, I bet he'd just melt your twisted heart. Oh! I bet May has baby pictures!}

Wade swallowed. "Yeah, okay." He followed Peter down a small hallway, pulse thrumming with anticipation.

{Yessss the bedroom bedroom bedroom bedroom} Yellow chanted.

[This is a bad idea.]

{Shut up I wanna see where he sleeps! And touches himself!}

[Oh, come on…]

{Exactly.}

Peter opened the door at the end of the hall and stepped inside, letting Wade follow. Wade's gaze swept over the room, taking it all in with focused attention. It was small, but very comfortable. The sheets on the bed were tangled in an unmade mess and there were articles of clothing laying haphazardly on the floor. The desk was covered in papers and textbooks and one very conspicuous and very nice MacBook Pro. The bureau was cluttered with knickknacks and –

Peter lunged forward to knock something off the bedside table. Whatever it was (something paper, by the looks of it) rolled off the back and fell under the bed, out of sight. Wade raised an eyebrow at Peter's flushed look of embarrassment, but made no comment.

{Probably porn.} Yellow stated wisely.

Wade finished glancing around, feeling the weight of this moment as if it were more important than it probably actually was. There was a poster of the periodic table on one wall, and posters from Star Wars and Battlestar Galactica on the another.

[What a nerd.]

Taped to the wall above his desk were a few pictures of what looked like Peter and his friends (Wade recognized Harry Osborn in a couple of them) and a hand-drawn comic book. Wade glanced back at Peter, who was standing beside the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, looking simultaneously nervous and stupidly happy for some inscrutable reason.

"I like it." Wade finally said, and the smile that spread across Peter's face was enough to make him feel weak at the knees. "Yeah, it's very high school vogue."

Peter chuckled, flinging himself down on the bed and propping his pillow up against the headboard to lean back on. "I'm glad." He gestured towards the end of the bed, indicating that Wade should sit down. "I'll have to pass your compliments on to my interior designer."

Wade grinned. "Oh yeah. And give me their card, I'll have them do my place, too." He sat down gingerly on the bed, leaning back against the wall but keeping his hands folded in his lap. The clean, sweet perfect smell of Peter was all around him, and he had to keep himself in check because Peter would definitely find it creepy if Wade picked up a handful of his sheets and smelled them.

[Insanely creepy. What's with this weird new obsession, anyways?]

{He's amazing. How could we not be obsessed?} Yellow's voice was an awed whisper, and White just snorted in return.

"Will do." Peter slumped down a little, getting comfortable, and propped his feet up in Wade's lap.

Wade froze. Peter had shed his shoes at some point and now his feet were touching him. Peter was touching him. Peter was touching him casually and they were in Peter's bed and what the hell was he supposed to do now?

{Oh my god- So many answers… How do I… I can't- I can't choose!}

He glanced up at Peter, who had pulled out his phone and was staring at it with a concerned frown. He looked more tired when he wasn't smiling, and Wade could see the frown lines at the corners of his lips and eyes, his forehead creased in worry. He was too young to look like that. And come to think of it, he'd seemed a bit distracted and anxious ever since they left the nursing home.

"Everything okay?" Wade asked, one hand coming to rest unconsciously on Peter's ankle.

Peter nodded tiredly and swiped a hand across his eyes. "Yeah, just… Just trying to make sure my friends got home okay."

Wade frowned. Why should a teenager have to worry about that? Did his friends live in bad neighborhoods? Well, he knew Harry fucking _Osborn_ didn't… As he watched, Peter's phone buzzed in his hand and he visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping as he typed out a quick reply before locking his phone and setting it aside.

"Sorry I'm not being fun." Peter smiled weakly at him. "I'm a bit tired."

Wade shook his head quickly. "You look exhausted. You should get some rest, you know? Why don't you just close your eyes for a little bit."

Peter looked like he was going to protest for a moment, but then his eyelids dropped with undisguised fatigue and he gave in with a sigh. "Just for a minute." He mumbled, setting his glasses on the bedside table and rolling onto his side to rest his head on the pillow in a more comfortable position.

"Sounds good, Peter. I'll just, um…" Wade shifted slightly to get up, but Peter's feet were still resting on his thighs.

Peter made a small noise that caused Wade's eyes to go wide. "Could you stay?" He asked, and his voice was heavy with sleep. Wade had to try not to shiver at the sound of it.

"Um, yeah. Sure." He settled back down, hand returning to Peter's ankle where his fingers curled lightly around the thin bone. "You just get some sleep."

He sat frozen, waiting, and before a full minute had passed, Peter's breaths had turned heavy and even.

[That's freaky. How could anyone fall asleep around _you_?]

{I don't know but isn't it just the cutest thing? My _god_ look at his eyelashes…}

[You shouldn't be looking at his eye lashes. Not that I'm on board or anything, but should you really be here watching another teenage boy sleep when you think you're all in love with Spider-Man?]

{Oh shit, Spidey!}

[What, did you forget about him?] White's tone was scathing.

Of _course_ Wade hadn't forgotten about Spidey. Of course. He'd been thinking about Spidey all the time. He was worried as hell for his little arachnid baby boy. But Spidey was his nighttime love. And this… This was the daytime. He didn't get to see Spider-Man during the daylight hours. And he had to distract himself somehow, right?

{Right.}

[That sounds suspiciously like an excuse for cheating to me.]

"What?" Wade squeaked, then clapped his free hand over his mouth, looking down at Peter to make sure he hadn't woken him up. What the hell? He wasn't _cheating_ … He wasn't even doing anything with Peter. They were just friends. Peter would never even… That was ridiculous.

{Yeah, we're not cheating! Spidey won't mind if we admire the fine, fine attributes of another hot young thing. Not when that hot young thing has a boyfriend!}

That didn't really make Wade feel any better, but at least White's only response was a smug, disdainful silence. _Was_ he lusting after Peter? And was it wrong for him to do so? Setting aside the fact that Peter Parker was the purest, most innocent, perfectly good little cinnamon roll and Wade was a psychopathic murderer; would Spidey be mad if he knew about how Wade thought about the boy?

Would he be mad if he knew how Wade's stomach churned every time he thought of Peter having a boyfriend? Or being with Harry? Or anyone else for that matter?

Yeah. This was fucked up.

[Of course it is. _You're_ fucked up. And if you really loved Spider-Man, you'd be out trying to solve his problems instead of cuddling up with an attractive high schooler.]

{Aha! So you _do_ think he's attractive!}

[That's not the point.]

{Right. Why _aren't_ we out trying to kill the Goblin for Spidey?}

Wade made a distressed sound in the back of his throat, bowing his head to stare at Peter's pretty little feet. "We tried." He breathed. And he had. He'd run all over the place these last few days trying to track that fucker down. He'd put feelers out, talked to all his shadiest connections in the city, and no one knew who he was or where to even start looking. Whoever it was had the resources to stay very well hidden.

{We obviously didn't try hard enough.} Yellow sneered. {You think Spidey can still be our boyfriend if he's been skewered by the goblin's floating skateboard thingy?}

[Nope.]

{Unless… Mm, it would be nice to have a pretty little spider corpse to play with. But that wouldn't last very long.}

Wade gagged, his eyes squeezing shut and his fingers tightening reflexively around Peter's ankle. No no no no no. He wouldn't think about that. He couldn't.

[That would be fun, wouldn't it? He'd be so pale and small. And we should make sure to get him when the blood's still wet.]

Wade choked, and started rapping under his breath, fast and desperate. "Whatcha gonna do with all that junk. All that junk inside your trunk. I'ma get get get get you drunk. Get you love drunk off my hump."

Wade thanked all the gods he knew when Yellow started singing along.

{My hump. My hump my hump my hump! My lovely little lumps! Check it out.}

They went through the whole song. Twice. At the beginning of the third, there was a knock on Peter's door. Wade jumped slightly, immediately removing his hand and tucking it under his thigh as if touching Peter's ankle were some punishable offense.

May opened the door and poked her head in, her gaze going soft when she saw Peter was sleeping. "Oh, good. He's been so tired lately. Dinner's almost ready, dear." She told Wade softly. "You should wake him up in a minute to come set the table."

"Okay." Wade whispered back, doing his best to look pleasant and polite. May just smiled and left the door ajar when she went back to the kitchen.

Wade let out a deep breath, relaxing slightly after she was gone. He turned to look at Peter, not sure what the best way to go about waking him up was, but he was already stirring. He rolled onto his back and yawned, stretching his hands above his head and revealing a thin strip of skin between his jeans and his t-shirt. Wade stared.

"Hey." Wade's eyes snapped back to Peter's face and widened slightly. He was giving Wade a sleepy smile, his dark eyes practically burning under those thick eye lashes.

{Oh yeah… Little Wade definitely likes that.}

Wade blushed. Because shit. Shit shit shit that was bad.

"Did I sleep until dinner?" Peter glanced blearily at his alarm clock and frowned the cutest little frown Wade had ever seen. "Sorry."

"Uh, nope, no. I mean yes, but it's fine." Wade cleared his throat. "Your aunt said we should come set the table now."

"Oh, okay." Peter slid his glasses back on and sat up, running one hand through the thick mess that was his beautiful hair.

{Ugh. What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through that hair…}

[You don't have fingers.]

{Killjoy.}

Peter swung his legs off the bed and stood up, and Wade was suddenly very aware of the lack of warmth in his lap where Peter's feet had just been. He stood up too, brushing off the front of his jeans as if that would help erase the feeling. It didn't.

"Mm. Smells great." Wade commented as Peter opened the bedroom door all the way and stepped into the hall. He followed, sniffing unashamedly at the delicious scent that wafted towards them from the kitchen.

Peter chuckled. "I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs. It's kind of the only thing Aunt May can make without burning."

"Hey! I heard that." Peter just grinned when May waved a wooden spoon at him from where she stood in front of the stove. "Did you have a good nap, Peter? You've been so tired out from school."

{I bet we could tire him out real good…}

Peter's cheeks turned a delicious shade of pink as he opened a cabinet and started pulling out plates. "Aunt May…" He muttered petulantly.

"Oh hush, it's fine, dear. You work so hard." She turned to Wade and pointed the spoon at him. "He's at the top of his class, you know!"

"Aunt May!" Peter shot her a look as he shoved three plates into Wade's hands.

"Wow, that's awesome!" Wade grinned at him, ignoring the way Peter was trying to shoo him towards the kitchen table. "I knew you were the smartest cookie in New York."

"Not in New York." He corrected matter-of-factly as he opened a drawer to get out silverware. "Just at my school."

Wade chuckled as he lay the plates out at three different spots at the small linoleum table. "I bet you are the smartest in New York. Maybe in the whole world!"

"That's what I'm always saying." May smiled warmly at Wade as she brought the bowl of pasta to the table.

"You're both ridiculous." Peter accused, but he was rolling his eyes fondly. Soon, the table was set, drinks were poured, and all the food was laid out. It smelled and looked amazing.

They all sat down, Wade settling beside Peter with Aunt May across from them.

"Wade, could you take your hood off at the table please?"

Wade froze, and he was aware of Peter going still beside him, too. He cleared his throat, stomach sinking completely out of his body as he glanced across the table at May's neutral, unassuming smile.

"Um… I don't wanna be rude, Nurse May, but I think it'd be a more enjoyable meal for everyone if you don't have to look at my horror-movie face while you eat."

{Yeah, seriously. Can you imagine all the puke? What a way to end the evening.}

[It would be just like Wade to completely fuck up a nice visit, wouldn't it?]

May's smile turned into a frown as quick as lightning. "Wade Wilson." She scolded, and Wade felt something inside him jolt to attention. "Do you think so little of us that we would care about what your skin looks like?" Wade's mouth fell open in shock. "We don't give a damn. So take off your hood and enjoy some food with us."

Wade swallowed, glancing sideways at Peter. He expected pity, or concern, or maybe disgust, but Peter was just smiling at him with the softest look in his eyes, almost like… "We really don't care, Wade." He told him, and Wade thought he might just die. He knew they were just putting on brave faces for him, at least in part (because he sure as hell hadn't forgotten the look on Peter's face when he saw Wade for the first time), but that didn't even matter. They were making an effort for him, to make him feel accepted. And Wade couldn't remember the last time someone had done that, if it had ever even happened before.

Slowly, he lowered his hood. He kept his eyes glued to his plate after that, but no one made any more comments about it or even looked at him too closely, so after a few seconds he reached for the pasta to serve himself. The conversation started back up, something about one of the other nurses who worked with May and her daughter who went to middle school with Peter. It was… normal.

It was all normal.

And perfect.

And Wade had never had food that tasted so good. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that it wasn't because of Aunt May's cooking. It was because of where he was. And who he was with.

Did people have this, like, every day? Is this how normal people felt all the time?

[It's not so great…]

{Are you kidding me? They're treating us like… Like…}

"Like we're normal." Wade whispered under his breath.

He felt a little fuzzy after that, kind of like he was watching everything through a rose-tinted lens. They finished dinner, talking easily and taking their time. Aunt May asked he and Peter to help clear the plates, and Wade even offered to help wash the dishes.

[Holy fuck. When was the last time _you_ did dishes?]

{I think it was 1998?}

Aunt May washed and Wade slid his gloves off and tucked them away into his pocket so he could dry. Peter leaned against the counter, looking like he'd fallen straight out of heaven with his low-slung jeans and mismatched socks and adorably sexy bedhead, and chatted with them about the strengths and weaknesses of I Love Lucy. The discussion got a little heated, but it was nice. It was more than nice.

Once the last fork had been dried and put away, Aunt May gave them both a sly smile. "Why don't you too go find us something to watch on tv. I've got a little surprise I think you're going to like."

Wade grinned. "If it's not ice cream, I may have to start a riot."

May winked at him. "I don't think you'll be disappointed, Wade. Now shoo, you too! Go on."

Peter laughed as he grabbed Wade's arm and pulled him towards the couch. "Here." He snagged the remote off the coffee table and handed it to Wade, letting go of him to flop down onto the couch.

Wade sat down beside him, putting a good foot of space between them, but Peter tucked his feet up under him and scooted closer, close enough that Wade was aware of his body with every inch of his own. The cells all along his side thrummed with the knowledge of Peter's proximity. Wade swallowed, and turned on the television.

{Oh, Cops! We love this show.}

Wade wasn't sure Aunt May would appreciate the fine art of criminal catching (not when it involved so much cursing and really terrible 80's mustaches), so he started flipping through channels for something better.

{Law and Order! No wait, SVU is the only good one. Oh! Oh! Family Feud!}

[That show is terrible.]

{No, it's wonderful! Who doesn't like to watch families go head to head in a cutthroat category guessing game? Plus, I love that giant board.}

"We like this one." Peter murmured beside him, and Wade paused on a channel playing reruns of Friends.

"Classic. I approve." Wade set the remote aside and tried to concentrate on Ross and Rachel having one of their hilarious fights on the tv set. But Peter was so close, and his body was practically radiating energy, and Wade was more than a little distracted.

He glanced sideways at Peter, aware that the teenager had grown tense. As he watched, Peter ran both hands through his hair and stared down at his lap, frowning slightly. "It doesn't add up." He mumbled to himself. "Why just them?"

[What the hell is up with him?]

{I thought we were the only ones who talked to ourselves.}

Wade frowned a little too, concerned by how anxious Peter seemed. "Everything okay?" He asked gently.

Peter blinked up at him, and attempted a weak smile after a moment. "Yeah, fine. Sorry. I'm just… I don't know. Still tired I guess." He refocused his gaze on the television, but Wade could tell he was still tense.

Without thinking too much about it, Wade raised one hand and wrapped his fingers around the back of Peter's neck, squeezing gently. Almost instantly, like flipping a switch, Peter's whole body started to relax. He let out this breathy little sigh as his eyes slipped closed, and the sound, somehow startlingly familiar, shot straight to Wade's heart. And his dick.

All the breath left his lungs at once and he felt lightheaded. Drunk. He jerked his hand away, realizing in that moment that he'd never put his gloves back on. And fuck. He shouldn't be touching Peter that way. He shouldn't be... Shouldn't be getting _turned on_ right now.

{Ah, but he's sooooo hot…} Yellow hissed.

[Yeah, and what about Spider-Man? You want to fuck this little treat. Do you think he'd mind?]

"You okay?" Peter was gazing up at him with wide, concerned eyes, a hint of pain and sadness hidden in those baby browns. And _fuck_ , he hadn't meant to hurt the kid. That was the last thing he wanted.

[Maybe he wouldn't care. You never said you were exclusive, after all. Maybe Spidey's off fucking other pretty boys, too.]

Wade flinched, and turned to stare glassily at the tv. "Fine. Sorry." He mumbled.

{We'll kill him if he is.} Yellow growled. {He's _ours_.}

[Is he?]

Wade swallowed. He was vaguely aware that Peter was still staring at him, but he was busy putting all of his energy into not reacting to the boxes.

{Yesss. Only ours. No one else can touch him.}

[The Goblin has. And Spidey didn't want you in the way when they fought; didn't want you close enough to hear what they said to each other. What do you think they talked about?]

{We'll kill that fucking bastard… We'll slice him into little green bits and scatter him all over the fucking city.}

[But Spider-Man doesn't want you to kill him, remember? He doesn't want you to kill at all. He wants you to _change_. Hey… Do you think maybe _that's_ why he's fucking you? Because only a pretty face and a hot piece of ass have any chance of getting you to -]

"No." Wade snapped, then hastily coughed to try to cover up the word.

"Wade?" He couldn't look at Peter. Not when his sweet voice was so full of concern. If he looked at those eyes…

Wade stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets so Peter wouldn't see that they were clenched into fists.

{Spidey wouldn't do that. He's ours. All ours.}

[He won't be if he finds out you're running around touching other boys.]

"Oh, were you leaving, Wade?" Aunt May stood beside them, holding two bowls of what looked like Rocky Road ice cream.

"Um…" Wade glanced back at Peter, who was perched on the edge of the couch, as if about to stand up. He had such a look of concern and sadness on his face that Wade wanted to fall to his knees and give the boy whatever he wanted, even if Wade had no clue what that was.

[Look what you did.]

{We knew you'd fuck it up.}

"Um, I need to… Sorry." Wade started walking towards the door, head spinning.

"Wade!" Peter was going to follow him.

Wade stopped beside the door and turned half-way back, keeping his eyes lowered to the threadbare carpet. "Thanks for a really nice evening. I… It was… Thanks. I just remembered I have to go somewhere." He swallowed against the tightness in his throat, his heart breaking just a little because to walk away from this… It was incomprehensible. But he had to. "Goodnight." He unlocked the door with urgency and slipped out into the hallway, heart pounding.

[Way to go, asshole. That's how you repay them for welcoming you into their home?]

{You're so ungrateful. And did you see the look in Peter's eyes? Like you killed his puppy.}

Wade breathed out heavily through clenched teeth, taking the stairs two at a time down to the ground floor. "Had to get out of there before you… Before I did something bad."

[Oh, so you're blaming this on us now?]

{You're the fuck up, Wade. You. You always ruin every good thing you ever have.}

"I know. Fuck. Just shut the fuck up."

[Are we bothering you?]

{Aw, so sorry… Maybe if you let off a little steam, we'd all feel better.}

Wade flipped his hood up as he stepped out onto the street and started walking towards the safe house he'd set up just a block away after he'd learned where Peter lived.

[You _did_ say we could take a little trip to Oscorp after the end of the workday.]

{And what time is it? Hm? Quitting time?}

[It's almost eight o'clock, idiot. Everyone will have gone home by now.]

{Perfect.}

"Fine." Wade would change into his suit and head over there. It was probably best to go now anyway. He knew Peter wasn't at work, so there was minimal risk to him. It wasn't dark yet, so the security guards wouldn't be on the lookout, but the building would have very few people wandering around to interrupt him. If he hoped to get in and out without killing anyone, this would be the optimal time.

And maybe it would distract the boxes enough that they'd lay off him about Spidey and Peter for a little while. Wade was stressed enough about the whole situation without the boxes giving voice to every worry and suspicion hidden in the dark recesses of his mind.

{Look out Oscorp. We're coming to fuck shit up.}

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wade stumbled in through the window, tumbling over his unmade bed and landing heavily on the floor. He climbed clumsily to his feet, using the bed as leverage and leaving a smear of blood on the mattress. His legs felt numb. And he didn't think that had anything to do with the regeneration of muscle on his hip or the newly closed bullet holes in his chest.

{You're going to be late to meet Spidey.} Yellow's voice was muted.

"Gotta change." Wade mumbled, peeling his blood-soaked suit off one layer at a time. His hands were shaking.

{Right. Can't go see Spidey covered in blood. He might worry.}

[Or get mad.]

Wade swallowed, kicking his ruined suit into a pile in the corner and grabbing a discarded towel from the ground to try and wipe away the drying blood that clung to his skin. After rubbing at it for a minute, the towel was almost completely red and he was no closer to being clean of the evidence of his misdeeds.

{Take a shower. Quick.}

Wade stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the shower, not caring whether it was hot or cold water that he stepped under a moment later. He grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing, not taking the care he usually did to avoid irritating his scars. It didn't matter. He just had to get clean of this… Of this dirt.

[You did the right thing.] White told him gently.

"I know." Wade watched the water run down the drain, eventually turning from red, to pink, to clear.

He shut off the water and climbed out, reaching for a clean towel. He stared at the white square of wall where the mirror used to hang, a lighter color then the rest of the yellowish faded paint of the bathroom, while he dried off and tried to ignore the images that flashed through his mind.

He'd thought he could handle it. He'd thought he could get in, see what there was to see, and leave without interfering. A recon mission only.

But when he'd seen… When he'd stood in the room and smelled the sharp chemical disinfectants and the burnt flesh. When he'd seen the test tubes and the scalpels and the cages. When he'd heard the screams.

He snapped.

It was a blur after that. The scientists had fallen so easily under his blades, crumpling like paper, their perfect white lab coats splattered with bright red. There had been a surprising amount of them for after hours, but Wade probably shouldn't have expected evil experimentation to conform to the normal work day. The guards had offered a little more of a challenge. But just barely. Just enough to make it satisfying when each body hit the floor.

He had cleared the labs. As many as he could find. Destroyed everything he could get his hands on. And he'd seen him. Norman Osborn himself. He'd slipped out just ahead of Deadpool, disappearing somewhere too quickly to be followed. Wade wasn't surprised in the least to know that the head of the company was responsible for all of this. It made perfect sense, really. And now he could kill the man without any doubts or hesitation. Never mind that he was Harry Osborn's father. Wade couldn't worry about that right now. Besides, it was entirely possible that Harry was in on it too, in which case Wade would have some tricky decisions to make. But he could think about that later. Right now, he needed to go meet Spider-Man.

He pulled on a new suit and mask, slinging his katanas onto his back and stocking his belt with fresh weapons and ammo. He moved on autopilot, climbing back out of his window and dropping to the ground three floors below.

The boxes didn't bother him much on the way to the hotel rooftop. They approved of what he'd done. And they'd gotten what they wanted.

Wade couldn't help but feel relieved that they were calmer now. Sated.

Spidey was already there when Wade climbed over the edge of the rooftop. He was pacing, small body full of nervous energy. As soon as he saw Wade, he launched himself towards the mercenary, closing the distance between them in an instant.

Wade caught the little hero in his arms and help him tight, breathing in deeply. Lines of tension that he hadn't been aware of melted out of his body, leaving him trembling slightly as he buried his face in Spidey's neck.

"Hey." Spidey ran his hands down Wade's back, soft and soothing. "You okay?"

Wade grunted, taking a moment to feel like he could breathe normally again. "Yeah, I just… Mm. I'm okay now."

Spidey let Wade hold him for another few seconds before pulling back slightly and planting a kiss on Wade's cheek through their masks. "Wanna talk about it?"

Wade wasn't really the type for talking. He talked nonstop, of course, he wasn't called the merc with a mouth for nothing, but never about anything _real_. That just wasn't his style. But the idea of talking to _Spidey_ , of telling him a little bit about why Wade was the way he was, appealed to him in some strange, powerful way that caught him by surprise. He knew he couldn't tell Spider-Man about what he'd just done. But maybe… Maybe he could tell him something worth sharing. "Um… I, uh, yeah. I guess so."

{Are you sure that's a good idea?}

[No. It's a terrible idea. You think he wants to know why you're so fucked up?]

"Maybe it'll help him understand." Wade whispered as he let Spidey slide down to stand on his own two feet again.

[And you think things will be better when he _understands_ you? He'll just understand how messed up you are and want to get as far from you as possible.]

{He hasn't run yet.}

Spidey took his hand gently in both of his own and squeezed. "You wanna go somewhere else? Your place, maybe?" He asked gently.

Wade blinked at him. "Um… Don't you wanna patrol? I don't want to take up all your time or anything…"

Spidey just shook his head. "We'll patrol if we have time. But I'm pretty tired after last night. Not sure if I'd be much use out there. Aren't you tired, too? Or, um, did you get some sleep today?"

Wade shrugged. He hadn't slept, of course, but he didn't want Spidey to worry. Wade hardly slept when he _wasn't_ busy hunting down the new Weapon X and worrying about his beautiful little spider hero. Besides, he seemed to function okay on very little sleep anyway. Probably had to do with his healing factor. "Alright, sure… Yeah, just follow me."

He led Spider-Man to the nearby fire escape and started climbing down. He had a relatively clean safe house just a couple blocks from here.

They didn't talk as they made their way to Wade's building, but every once in a while Spidey would catch his hand and give it a gentle squeeze or run his fingers down Wade's back, between his shoulder blades. It was simultaneously calming and slightly arousing.

Wade slipped a lock-picking kit out of one of his pouches and picked the lock to his apartment when they got there, shooting Spidey a sheepish smile. "I live here, I promise." Or, well, he paid rent.

The hero chuckled. "I believe you."

Wade let them in and led Spidey to the slightly used couch in the living room. He glanced around, wishing he had something to offer Spidey to eat or drink. Wasn't that what you did when you had people over? "You wanna order some food? Yeah, I'm gonna order food." He pulled out his phone and was dialing a nearby pizza place before he Spider-Man could answer. The boy needed to eat more anyway.

He ordered two peperoni and olive pizzas for delivery before tucking his phone back in his pocket. He stared at Spidey, who was sitting on the couch. Wade was standing in the middle of the living room, feeling a little lost. Should he sit down too? He probably should. That made sense.

He cleared his throat awkwardly as he took a seat next to Spider-Man on the couch, putting a polite amount of space between them. It was kind of like déjà vu when Spidey moved closer, tucking his feet up beside him and curling into Wade's side. He let his head fall against Wade's shoulder and sighed, his whole body relaxing at the contact.

Wade felt himself relaxing too as he lifted one arm to wrap around Spidey's shoulders and hold him close to his side. He could do this. Yeah, he could do this. Where should he start? Was this the kind of thing you just jump right into or was there a proper lead up?

[Why don't you start with the gory details.] White suggested sardonically. [You know, the torture, psychotic break, lots of murder.]

{Just start at the beginning.}

"Right, so…" Wade took a deep breath. "I had a pretty shitty childhood. My dad-"

{Oh, whoa, not that beginning, big guy. I was going for more the middle part. Skip past the childhood trauma. We don't want to scare the poor boy…}

[Oh no, because the rest of the story is so pleasant.]

"Right, right. Sorry. Um…" Shit, when exactly had it all begun in earnest? Wade's memories were dodgy at best, but most of the big events still stood out in his mind. Which ones should he be sharing?

Spidey shifted at his side and Wade looked down at him, suddenly worried that this might not be the right thing to do. Did Spider-Man even want to be burdened with all of his shit? Knowing the sweet young hero, he probably did. But that didn't mean Wade _should_. What if he got scared? What if White was right, and he left?

"It's okay." Spidey said softly, resting one delicate hand on Wade's thigh. "Just tell me whatever you want to tell me, whenever you're ready. If it doesn't happen tonight, that's fine too."

{He's too good for this fucking world.}

[Definitely too good for _us_.]

Wade smiled sadly beneath his mask, and held Spidey a little tighter. "Thanks, Baby Boy." His chest warmed at the delicious little shiver that ran through his spider's body. "I think I'm ready to tell you how… Um, how Deadpool happened."

It wasn't a secret from the people in the know, like the big-time hero community, or anyone who knew about Weapon X (though most of those people were dead by now), but Wade did tend to keep his origin story a little hush hush when it came to the general public. He didn't need his personal info floating around where just _anybody_ could find it, even if he couldn't die and had nothing worth losing. It was just standard practice. So he doubted that Spidey knew much about the series of unfortunate events that was Wade's past.

Wade cleared his throat. "I, um, I was always a mercenary. Before… Well, I was Special Forces and then when I got discharged I made my own way. Seemed like the easiest way to make money and it fit my particular skill set like a glove." He didn't look at Spidey, afraid of what he might see as the story went on. He kept his gaze fixed on the blank screen of the television in front of them, watching their red, black and blue little figures reflected in the glass.

"Not much to say about my life. At least not the parts I remember. You know that game 'fuck, marry, kill?' It was kind of like that, if you replaced 'marry' with 'drink.' Anyway. Um, then I got sick. Cancer. Got my liver, lungs, prostate and brain before I passed out at the grocery store one day and got taken in for x-rays. The grocery store, can you believe that? Right in the cereal aisle. Captain Crunch all over the floor. It wasn't pretty. And so they told me I was dying and it was too late to do anything about that shit. I didn't have much to live for anyway so I was just –"

A small, broken sound from his side startled Wade into breaking his staring contest with the tv, and he glanced down at Spidey. "What is it, Spidey? You okay?"

Spidey just shook his head, wrapped his arms tight around Wade's waist and buried his face in Wade's chest. "Sorry." His voice was muffled and a bit strained. "Sorry, I just… I didn't know."

Wade blinked at him in surprise. Spidey was… Was he sad for Wade? "Oh, Baby Boy…" He wrapped both arms around the arachnid's slender shoulders and nuzzled his face against the boy's head. "That's not even the tough part." Spidey made another heart-breaking little sound, and Wade felt something deep and tender in the pit of his stomach. "You want me to stop, little spider?"

"No." Spidey pulled back a little, taking a quick breath. "No, please. I want to know. I'm okay, I promise."

Wade looked at him closely, looking for any signs that he was just putting on a brave face, that he didn't emreally/em want Wade to continue. But he looked as earnest as he ever could under the Spider-Man mask. Wade leaned in and planted a masked kiss on his forehead before continuing. "Okay, so… Um, so there I was, dying or whatever. And this asshole in a suit shows up – you always know things are gonna be shitty when the suits show up. You should remember that, Spidey. So this dick finds me and he's like 'hey man, we can totally save your life if you come to our super-secret hideout cancer treatment facility.' And he hands me a creepy black business card and leaves. And at first I was like whatever, I'm just gonna die anyway. But the more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized I didn't have anything to lose by giving it a shot. So I went."

He paused then to take a slow, shaky breath. He could make jokes about this shit until the cows come home, but actually talking about it? Like in a serious way? It was harder than he thought it would be.

[No shit. You should stop now. Just tell him the rest is history; he'll be better for it.]

Wade shook his head. He wanted to tell Spidey. Because Spidey deserved whatever Wade could give him, little as that was.

[And you feel guilty about getting tingly feelings for the Parker kid.]

Maybe that, too. Just a little. Wade cleared his throat. "Um, so the underground illegal cancer treatment place ended up being less like the ritzy spa treatment I was imagining and more like an underground torture dungeon. They were recruiting, well, lab rats. I don't know if you've… If you've heard of something called Weapon X?" He saw Spidey shake his head slightly out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his gaze on the tv for now. "They were trying to force possible mutations to manifest by putting people's bodies under extreme stress. It was… Well, it wasn't the funnest four months I ever lived, but it was close."

{Was it four months? I thought it was over a year, for sure.}

[It was definitely closer to seven months. I think.]

"Anyway. Uh, to make a long story short, lots of pain and questionable mental coping mechanisms ensued. Enter the boxes, stage left." Wade gestured theatrically to his head.

{Hey, hi, hello! Nice to be here!}

"And um, one fucker in particular liked to work on me especially." Wade growled the name, anger curling in his stomach at just the thought of the man after all this time. " _Francis._ Such a pansy-ass piece of shit. I killed him real good when I… Well, um. That part came later." He took a deep breath and shifted slightly on the couch. Spidey had taken one of his hands at some point and was holding it gently.

"They finally got me to mutate. Took four days in an oxygen deprivation tank, but that seemed to do the trick." He heard Spidey inhale sharply, but he pushed on. He needed to get it over with or he wouldn't ever want to finish. "It hurt like a motherfucker and when it was over… Well. I looked like this." His ears were ringing in the silence that followed that statement. He swallowed past the bitter burn in his throat. "Francis thought it was funny. So I killed them all. Blew the whole place up." His voice had fallen flat now, neutral. Deadened. "Meant to kill myself too, but it didn't happen. So I tracked them all down. Every last person who ever thought the words 'Weapon X.' And I killed them. And then I tried to kill myself some more. Every possible way. It never worked. In the end, I just went back to doing what I do because I didn't know how to do anything else."

Wade stared blankly ahead, barely aware that his hand had curled into a fist inside Spidey's gentle fingers. "So, yeah. That's my origin story. Who d'you think will play me in the movies? I'm hoping for Ryan Reynolds, but that's like the dream cast, y'know?" He tried for light and casual, but his tone was falling flat.

Spider-Man released him and placed both his hands on Wade's cheeks, turning his head so they could look at each other. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, leaning up to rest his forehead on Wade's.

Wade swallowed, his hands landing on a small, spandex-covered waist. _No problem_ , he wanted to say. _It's alright. Don't be sorry. I'm totally fine_. What came out instead was a broken, whispered, "I used to be pretty." He took a shaking breath, but couldn't seem to stop the words from tumbling out. "So pretty. You would've… Oh, Spidey, you would've liked my face so much." His voice broke on the last word, and he tried to turn his head away, tried to hide from Spidey even though he had his mask on. It wasn't enough. Never enough to hide the ugliness inside.

But Spider-Man clung to his face and didn't let him move. Not one inch. "You stop that right now, Wade." His voice was hard, demanding, and Wade felt his eyes widen in surprise. "I like you just the way you are." Wade made a disbelieving noise, tried to turn away again, but the boy's grip was unyielding. "No. I do. Everything that happened to you… I wish it hadn't, obviously, but it made you _you_ , and I… I really…" He watched Spidey swallow. His next words came out on a whisper. "I really like you, Wade. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Wade blinked at him in awe, his misery and self-pity melting away in the face of this _miracle_ sitting beside him. "I don't know how I got you." He breathed.

{Fate!}

[Dumb luck.]

He lifted his hands to cup Spidey's neck, carefully caressing the curves of his shoulders, trailing fingers down his arms. Spidey's hands on his face went soft with a gentle exhale. "I don't know how long this will last, but I… I promise I won't waste a second of it." He was full of devotion, more serious and more in love than he'd probably ever been before.

Spider-Man went stiff, looking stricken as his hands fell from Wade's face. "This… This will last." His hands landed on Wade's thighs, possessive. "You're not going anywhere, are you?" He sounded defensive, accusatory, and just a little desperate.

Wade's heart lurched in his chest, and he shook his head. "No no no. I'm not going anywhere, Baby Boy." He squeezed Spidey's arms and watched some of the tension drain from his shoulders. "I'll be right by your side until you tell me to leave." It was a promise. One Wade meant to keep.

[You're not very good at keeping promises.]

{This time we will be.}

Spidey's fingers curled into the fabric of Wade's pants, tangling him up so he couldn't move away if he tried. "I'll never tell you to leave." He said with a fierce conviction that shot through Wade like a bullet.

Wade knew that wouldn't be true forever, but for now… For now it was all he wished for and more. He tightened his grip on Spidey's arms and hauled him into his lap, letting the hero's knees settle on either side of his thighs. He reached for the spider's mask and rolled it up, his breath catching at the sight of parted lips and flushed skin.

Spidey reached for his mask, too. And for a moment Wade felt the urge to stop him, to hide his skin from this beautiful creature, but he tamped it down. And when they kissed, it was beautiful. Slick and deep and warm and safe. And Wade thought that if Spider-Man could kiss him like _this_ , maybe he really didn't care.

When Spidey made that quiet, breathy little moan that never failed to bring Wade Junior to full attention, Wade couldn't stop himself from grabbing Spidey's hips and pulling them down against his own. They both gasped into the kiss, heat flushing through their veins and bringing the promise of _more_ like an itch beneath the skin, and Wade's gasp dissolved into a whimper when Spidey's teeth clamped down on his lower lip.

"Fuck…" He breathed. He pushed his hips up, searching for friction, chasing the sensation and – Spidey's thigh started vibrating against his. Wade froze. "Uh…"

Spider-Man hissed, scrambling off of Wade's lap and reaching for some invisible pocket on the leg of his suit. "Sorry, sorry! I'm sorry." Wade watched with wide eyes as Spidey pulled out a phone, simple case a familiar shade of blue.

{Secret pocket? Holy shit I love him even more!}

"Where were you even hiding that?" Wade asked as he watched Spidey swipe at something on the screen. "Your suit is tighter than skin, I swear."

"Sorry." Spidey flashed him a brief smile, but it wasn't as carefree as Wade would have liked. "I set up motion detectors at home and one of them just went off. It's probably nothing, just someone waking up, but I should go back and check."

"Oh." Bitter disappointment flooded through Wade, but he choked it down. Spidey's family's safety was way more important than getting his rocks off. "Of course, yeah. Um, will you be okay?" He'd offer to come, but he knew Spidey would ask him if he wanted that. "Text me if anything, um… Just let me know?"

Spidey nodded quickly, leaning in to leave one more lingering kiss on Wade's lips. "I will. Promise." He vowed before climbing off the couch and moving towards the window. He paused with his hands on the glass, ready to lift it open, and looked over his shoulder at Wade. "Are you okay?"

Wade swallowed, forcing a soft smile onto his mouth. "Yeah, Spidey-Boy. I'm just fine. Go check on your fam."

Spider-Man hesitated for a moment longer before nodded and sliding the window open to slip out into the night. Wade watching him go, smile falling away as soon as he disappeared. He sighed heavily, ran a hand over his face, rolled his mask back down. He didn't feel like taking it off tonight.

{Well. That went well!}

[Yes, as well as it could have, I suppose.] White's tone seemed to imply that he was sure it wouldn't last.

Wade wondered if he was right.

{Think the Goblin went to his house?}

[Maybe it was no one. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to get out of here.]

Wade frowned. No… No, he was sure it wasn't like that. But if it was the Goblin… He considered leaving now and following Spidey home, just as he'd considered doing so many times before. But he didn't want to violate the trust Spidey had put in him. So he'd just have to trust that he'd be called if he was needed.

He pulled out a gun and started cleaning it, just to keep his hands busy. He cleaned it over and over, far past the point of practicality.

Eventually, his Deadpool phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out in a flash to read the text from Spidey.

 **Everything fine. Just someone going to the bathroom, I think.**

Wade let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. Another text appeared within a few seconds of the first.

 **You okay?**

[He's a perceptive little wall-crawler, I'll give him that.]

Wade sighed as he typed out a reply.

 **just fine, bb. don't wrry about me ;)**

 **get some sleep k? night spidey**

He waited for one more response before tossing the phone aside.

 **Okay. Goodnight, Wade.**

Wade sat back on the couch and stared at the blank tv again. There was only one little red figure on the screen now.

{So. Long day, hm?}

[Oh, yeah. Broke into a friend's house, fostered some inappropriate lust for a high school boy (another one), killed a few dozen scientists and hired security, rehashed the past for the sake of a doomed relationship. Fun times, right?]

Wade looked down at the handgun balanced easily on his knee.

{This couch is a little too clean, don't you think?}

Yes. Yes it was. But Spider-Man liked it better clean.

[Do you?]

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Title:

Only This Moment – Röyksopp

Lyrics:

Anaconda – Nicki Minaj

Bad Blood – Taylor Swift

My Humps – The Black Eyed Peas

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	13. Kiss Me and Tell Me It's Not Broken

**Peter**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Okay. Yeah, I'll be home for dinner." Peter spun aimlessly in his desk chair, glancing at the clock on the computer screen to see that he'd only been at work for fourteen minutes. It felt like longer. "Yeah, Thai sounds great." He reached out with one hand to click open his email. "Mhm. Love you too, Aunt May. See you later. Bye." He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, eyes skimming over the email from Oscorp once again.

Something must have happened. They weren't saying what, which wasn't surprising since Oscorp didn't have much of a history of transparency with their employees, but Peter suspected it was a break in of some kind. When he'd arrived at work today, the security had been heavier than he'd ever seen it. The email had instructed all employees to have their ID cards to get into the building now, and Peter had brought his. But he hadn't been expecting the metal detectors or the armed guards stationed at every corner and in every elevator. There had been at least ten of them in the lobby.

He had had a brief moment of panic when he stood in line to go through the metal detectors, wondering if his web shooters would set them off, but they hadn't. There were definitely some metallic components to the devices, so Peter suspected that they were made of stainless steel, which was light and low in conductivity so it would be much harder to detect. Once more, Peter found himself in awe of Tony Stark's engineering genius, and very thankful for it.

Peter pulled his phone out and glanced at it again, wondering where Harry was right now. He'd be more worried if he wasn't almost certain that the Oscorp heir was somewhere in the building, dealing with whatever mess had caused the security proliferation.

Peter knew he was in the wrong. He _knew it_. He shouldn't keep stringing Harry along, for everyone's sake. He'd had every intention of ending things yesterday morning, when he'd snuck back into the Osborn penthouse after following May home from work. He really had planned on doing it, before he and Harry went to school. He was going to let him down as easy as possible, tell him that he'd always love him, and Harry was his best friend, and he hoped they could stay close, but they had to stop with the kissing and other non-platonic things. He'd been prepared to tell Harry it was because he was too busy for a relationship and it wasn't fair to either of them to keep going like that if they didn't intend for it to become anything.

But then the Green Goblin had threatened Harry and MJ by name. And all Peter could think about was Harry cutting him out of his life because he was hurt that Peter didn't want to be with him. And then Peter would have no way of making sure that his friend was alright. No way to protect him from the psychopathic superhuman hell-bent on ruining Peter Parker's life, let alone his own father.

And when Peter had slipped back into Harry's bedroom, the grey predawn light barely filtering in through the window, he made himself a vow of sorts. He stood by the bed and looked down at Harry's beautiful face, calm and relaxed in sleep as it never was in the light of day, and he promised himself that he would protect him. Harry Osborn was kind and good. He'd held out his hand to a skinny little nerd from Queens and offered him friendship. Offered him happiness that he'd never let himself hope for before. He didn't deserve to get dragged into Spider-Man's problems, especially not on top of everything else he'd had to deal with in his short, impossibly tragic life.

So Peter would protect him. And MJ too, of course. That day, he managed to convince them (although they both clearly thought he was losing his mind just a little bit) to keep him updated of their whereabouts at all times for at least the next two weeks. He lied and said it was for an experiment he was trying out. He roped Ned into it, too, but he was less worried about him since the Goblin hadn't mentioned him at all.

And that's where things weren't adding up. Why had the Green Goblin threatened Harry and MJ, but not Ned? He'd been friends with Ned for longer. Had he been hanging out with Harry and MJ _more_ than Ned recently? If he was being watched, would they have failed to notice his third friend? No, that didn't make sense. All four of them had hung out at the diner a few days ago. And he'd walked with Ned after school almost every day since then. It just. Didn't. Add. Up.

Peter felt like he was missing something. Something important. He'd had the feeling for a while now, like there was something on the tip of his tongue that he just couldn't remember, no matter how hard he tried. If he could just _focus_ , maybe he could solve it. Figure it out. Maybe if he got a full night of sleep, or didn't run himself ragged keeping tabs on his aunt and all his friends and meeting up with his mercenary boyfriend every night.

But Wade. Wade was the only thing holding him together by the edges, keeping him from dissolving into a scattered mess of stress and despair. He couldn't _not_ see Wade. He _lived_ for the moments they were together, when Wade held him. Kissed him. Even when he just sat at the end of Peter's bed while he slept. Just his _presence_ was enough to make Peter feel safe. Content.

Loved.

Hearing Deadpool's "origin story" had been hard. Shockingly hard. Peter hadn't wanted to leave Wade after that. He'd wanted to wrap his arms around his beautifully fucked up man and never let go. He wanted to kiss Wade breathless and touch him tenderly until he knew how wonderful he was. And then Peter wanted to keep kissing him and touching him because he was so beautiful he made Peter's _heart_ hurt.

The only thing that tore him away from doing just that was the terrifying possibility that Aunt May might have been in danger. Of course he knew that the motion detectors might have gone off if she'd gotten up to use the bathroom (which they had, thank god), or even gone off for no reason at all since they were homemade and rather crude. But there was that possibility… That not-so-slim possibility that the Green Goblin had finally decided to pay a visit to the Parker residence.

So Peter had forced himself to leave, even though he could see that Wade was still shaken from telling Peter about his past. And when he got home and found his aunt safely asleep in her room, the rest of the apartment silent and undisturbed, he almost turned right back around and returned to Wade. But he was exhausted, and Wade told him to get some sleep. He should have fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he hadn't. He'd found himself crying, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs for the second time in the last twenty-four hours. He cried for Wade, and what he'd been through. And how much he had to deal with because of it. And how sweet and kind and passionately caring he was underneath all the shit he wore like an armor. A cracked, broken armor with rusted metal and missing chinks.

It was the first time he cried himself to sleep over Wade, but it wouldn't be the last.

He couldn't bear it if he caused Wade more pain. He knew how the mercenary could get sometimes; he'd seen it when Wade had rushed out of his apartment (although he still didn't know why), leaving him and Aunt May alone and more than a little worried for him. So Peter was going to do his best to avoid Harry, since that seemed like the most feasible way to keep himself from doing the wrong thing and hurting someone he cared about.

It wasn't hard so far. Harry hadn't come to school today. He'd sent a brief, cryptic text about whatever was happening at Oscorp needing his attention and he hadn't shown up to drive Peter to work at three o'clock, either.

Peter sighed and set his phone aside once again. He rubbed at his eyes with both hands and told himself to focus. He had work to do. It was easier said than done with all the things floating around his mind right now, but he needed this internship. He needed to keep doing well, so that one day he could get into a good college on all the scholarships they could offer him, and then get a good job. As if he didn't have enough to worry about already.

Just as he was attempting to make sense of the numbers on the screen in front of him, a knock sounded on the door. Peter frowned slightly as he got up to answer it. He expected Harry to be waiting on the other side (or, a tiny part of him hoped, Wade coming to surprise him once again), but when he swung the door open he found himself facing someone he didn't recognize at all. It was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, wearing a plain suit and holding his hands clasped in front of his belt. He had the distinct look of a security guard, though he wasn't wearing the uniform that most of Oscorp's security wore. He must be someone's personal security, then.

Peter tried to smile politely, although unease was stirring in his stomach. "Can I help you?"

The man did not smile back. "You're needed upstairs. Follow me, please." He turned without waiting for a reply and began walking down the hallway towards the elevators. Peter stared after him for a moment before grabbing his jacket and backpack, shutting off the computer with a few quick key presses, and closing his office door behind him.

He jogged a bit to catch up to the man. "Upstairs?" He asked quizzically. What could he possibly be needed for upstairs?

"Yes. Mr. Osborn asked for you specifically." He reached out to jab at the elevator button before clasping his hands again.

"Oh." Harry wanted him, then. It was a bit strange for him to summon Peter up to his office rather than coming down to the basement, but perhaps he was too busy with whatever had happened to get away. He hoped it wouldn't take too long, because he really did have things he needed to finish today. And if Harry was just calling him up for a social visit, Peter was going to scold him for sure.

The elevator ride was awkward, to say the least. Peter stood sandwiched between the man who had come to retrieve him and the uniformed guard stationed in the elevator. Both were tall and silent and serious. Peter almost wanted to make some snarky joke about needing elevator music, but he didn't think it'd be appreciated much by this crowd.

They rode all the way to the 50th floor, where the executive offices were. Peter had only been up there a couple of times before, once when Harry gave him a tour and again when Norman had "promoted" him after solving those data issues a few weeks ago.

He stepped out after the man in the suit and followed him down a wide, wood-paneled hallway. He frowned a little, steps faltering just slightly as they passed by Harry's office without pausing. Had Harry moved since Peter had last been here? He didn't have much time to wonder about it before Mr. Serious paused at a door at the end of the hall and reached out to open it for Peter. Peter stepped in, casting a sideways glance at yet another armed and uniformed guard standing outside the room. He paused just inside, gaze quickly taking in the large conference room with widening eyes.

The room was full of people, all men wearing expensive suits and frown lines. They practically smelled of money, lounging around on their smart phones or talking to each other in harsh, business-like tones. The general atmosphere was not a happy one. At the back of the room, behind a wide oak desk against a backdrop of floor to ceiling windows, stood Norman Osborn.

He looked even gaunter than when Peter had seen him the other night, cheeks sunken in and dark circles etched under his eyes. But his suit still fit well, tailored like it always was, even straining at the biceps and pectorals in a way that might have been considered attractive on someone less frightening. Slowly, as if sensing Peter looking at him, Norman raised his head from the folder of papers he'd been looking at. His eyes held a manic glint, and when his gaze met Peter's, a slow grin spread over his face.

Peter's heart began to pound, his spidey sense buzzing dully at the back of his neck.

Something wasn't right.

He had that feeling again. On edge. Like something was on the tip of his tongue; a dream he'd half-forgotten but was on the verge of remembering. Like he was holding the puzzle pieces in his hands and he just had to figure out how the last ones fit together. If he could just… Get the angle right…

"Peter Parker." Norman's voice, quiet as it was, carried easily across the room. The other men fell silent, conversations trailing off as if Norman had called them all to order. He raised one hand and beckoned Peter forward. "We've been waiting for you."

Peter swallowed hard, resisting the urge to flinch back, to try to leave. He could hate Norman Osborn all he wanted, but this was still his job. He took a few tentative steps forward, suddenly very aware that in a room full of men dressed in thousand-dollar suits, he was wearing ripped jeans and a t-shirt.

He came to stand beside the massive desk, trying to keep his breaths even and measured so that the pounding in his ears didn't become overwhelming. Norman stared at him, gaze lingering a moment too long before he glanced away and slowly pushed a wireless keyboard towards Peter.

"We've had a… security breach." He drawled, and a few of the other men in the room grumbled in agitation. "We need you to take a look at our firewalls. Make sure we haven't had anyone peaking anywhere they shouldn't be."

Peter frowned slightly, shifting on his feet as he glanced from Norman to the keyboard sitting on the desk. "I don't work in cyber security." He pointed out, discomfort churning in his stomach. What exactly was going on here? Why in the world would Norman Osborn be asking him to check Oscorp's firewalls?

Norman just smiled a thin smile. "Are you saying you can't do it?" A challenge glinted in his hard eyes, and Peter's jaw tightened.

"No, I can." He admitted quietly. He pulled the keyboard closer to him with a breath of resignation and moved around the corner of the desk so he could see the large computer screen. His neck tingled in warning as he put Norman behind him, out of his sightline. But the warning was dull and muted at the moment, so Peter did his best to ignore it. He already knew Norman was a horrible human being, but he doubted that the man would try to hurt him in front of a room full of other people.

Forcing himself to focus, Peter tapped out a few commands and opened the company's data security program. He delved into the code, pulling up recent activity and looking for any hidden gaps in the firewalls. There was silence in the room for a solid couple of minutes, and Peter found himself wishing the businessmen would go back to talking amongst themselves. Norman's soft voice broke through his concentration, making his heart stutter in surprise.

"Anything of note?" He asked, almost politely.

Peter glanced back at him. Norman was leaning against the window, arms crossed over his chest. "Nothing yet." He responded before looking back at the monitor. "I still have a couple more things to check." This probably wasn't the most comprehensive security scan possible, because Peter admittedly wasn't an _expert_ , but he was pretty sure he was covering all the major points of possible corruption or hacking.

After another few seconds, the dull buzzing at the base of his neck kicked up a notch, startling him. In the next beat, he could feel Norman leaning over him. Peter swallowed, his fingers faltering for a moment before resuming their rapid typing across the keyboard.

"Wow. Look at you go." Norman was peering over his shoulder, watching him type code into the computer. His voice dropped on the next words, volume low enough that no one else in the quiet room would hear exactly what he was saying. "Your fingers just fly over the keys, don't they? Like little spiders."

Like spiders.

He leaned down slightly, and his breath fanned warm and damp across Peter's neck. "I'm positively _green_ with envy…" He whispered.

Peter froze.

The pieces fell into place.

It couldn't be… But it was. It all made sense. The weird behavior, the long hours at work, the tracker. He had all the resources he'd ever need to pull it off. He hadn't threatened Ned because he didn't _know_ Ned. Harry was only friends with he and MJ. Oh god, Harry…

Peter jerked away from the desk, spinning on his heel to face Norman, suddenly terrified to have his back to him. His eyes were wide, blood draining rapidly from his face as the full realization of what was happening washed over him.

Norman smiled slowly, predatory. "All finished?"

Peter's mouth was dry, so he just nodded once, jerkily. His fingers curled up towards his wrists, towards his web shooters. But he was in a room full of other people, in a building full of cameras. And he was just Peter Parker. The moment he revealed himself, he was done. Norman Osborn could reveal him to the world, or blackmail him forever.

"I'll just…" He choked on the words, gestured clumsily towards the door. He turned and started to walk out, the edges of his vision blurring slightly as sound and color bled together. It felt like he was walking through water, his pulse pounding in his ears. No one stopped him.

Out in the hallway, he took deep, gulping gasps of breath. "Shit shit shit." He muttered, moving blearily towards the elevators. This couldn't be happening.

Norman. Osborn. Norman Osborn was the Green Goblin.

One of the richest, smartest, and most powerful men in the world knew Peter's secret and had a personal vendetta against him.

And Peter hadn't seen it coming. He was so _stupid_... All the clues had been there, he'd just been too blind to put it together.

And now Norman had revealed himself. That was the most frightening thing of all. Why give up his identity unless he didn't see Peter as a threat? Unless he had a plan to make sure Spider-Man would never be a problem again?

Peter was almost to the elevator, panic crawling up his throat when a sharp, demanding shock of danger shot down his spine. He twisted away instinctually, but Norman was already there. He grabbed Peter by the throat and had him pinned against the wall in half a second. "Looks like I caught myself a tasty little spider, hm?" He hissed through a demented grin, leaning in close to Peter's face.

Peter clawed at the Goblin's hand to little effect. He glanced sideways down the hall, eyes wide with fear, only to see that the guard stationed outside the conference room had disappeared.

They were alone.

Norman pulled Peter forward and slammed him back against the wall again, efficiently knocking any remaining breath out of his lungs. He leaned forward to growl into Peter's ear. "I'm going to tear your legs off one by one and watch while you writhe and scream. You tell your boyfriend to watch, too. Tell him to watch _what he did_."

He tore Peter away from the wall and hurled him to the ground. Peter immediately tried to scramble to his feet, gasping for oxygen and coughing when it burned his bruised throat. He found his footing and pressed his back to the opposite wall, slipping into a defensive crouch.

But Norman was standing a few feet away, straightening his jostled cufflinks with an air of casual discontent. "You know, Peter, I'm impressed. I never thought you'd have the audacity to cheat on my son." Peter's heart lurched painfully, and Norman fixed him with a cold stare. "I guess you really are a master secret keeper, aren't you?" He chuckled, and the sound sent tingles of _wrong_ down Peter's spine. "I look forward to watching your web of lies unravel one thread at a time." He stepped forward and Peter flinched back, but Norman only continued on past him, walking back towards the conference room. "Make sure to tell Wade Wilson that what happens next is for him." He spoke over his shoulder. "I'd hate for him to miss the show."

Peter watched him until he'd disappeared through the door at the end of the hall, chest heaving and mind racing.

What did Wade have to do with this?

He pressed the button to call the elevator, knowing his heart wouldn't stop pounding until he got the hell out of this building.

He couldn't believe this was happening. _Norman Osborn_ was going after him. He didn't stand a chance.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding that made Peter jump, and he stepped inside. The ride downstairs was a fog. He tried to calm down. Tried to think it through. But each breath just made his chest feel tighter and with each floor he passed he felt himself shaking a little more. By the time he stumbled outside, squinting into the late afternoon sunlight, his chest was aching and his head spinning. Vaguely, as if his thoughts were running through honey, Peter recognized the symptoms of a panic attack. He hadn't had one of those since Uncle Ben died.

He needed to see Wade.

He didn't know what the mercenary had to do with all of this, how he'd gotten himself in the Green Goblin's crosshairs, but Peter needed to make sure he was okay. Just the thought of seeing him right now made the knot in Peter's chest loosen a little bit.

Wade would make it all okay. It's what he did.

He pulled out his phone and unlocked it with unsteady fingers. His thumb hovered over the messaging app he used to text Wade as Spider-Man. He should meet him as Spidey so he could tell Wade what had happened. Wade could help, could tell him what to do.

But Peter knew what Deadpool's solution would be. As soon as he found out that Norman Osborn was the Green Goblin, he'd carve the Oscorp CEO's name into a bullet and go after him. A part of Peter, a weak, cowardly part of him, wanted to let Wade take care of it. It would be so easy, to just end it after all this.

But if he let that happen, it would be the end of Spider-Man, too. Spider-Man saved lives. He never took them.

So Peter opened his regular texting app instead. And he had another reason that he wanted to see Wade as _Wade_ , not Deadpool. A much more selfish reason.

He wanted to be able to look into Wade's eyes when he told Peter that everything would be okay.

His thumbs hovered over the keys, shaking with a slight tremor, and Peter couldn't figure out what to say. His mind was still a haze of panic and all he knew was that he needed to see Wade. Now.

He called him.

It only took two rings for Wade to pick up. "What's cookin' good lookin'?" He asked, the false note of cheer in his voice doing little to hide the worry underneath. Peter had never called him before.

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but again, he couldn't think of what to say. He was frozen, blank, stuck on the sidewalk outside Oscorp with dozens of people pushing past him and he was scared.

"Peter?" The concern was obvious now.

He swallowed. "C-Can… Can I come over?"

There was a moment of silence, nothing but static crackling over the line. Then, "Where are you now?"

Peter breathed in. Out. It was easier to get air into his lungs now, hearing Wade's business voice and knowing that he would take care of things. "Oscorp." He answered weakly.

"Okay. I'm texting you an address. It's only a five-minute walk; do you think you can do that?" His tone was calm, but firm.

Peter nodded, then remembered that Wade couldn't see him over the phone. "Yeah." He breathed.

"Good. Then I'm gonna hang up, alright? Yes, we'll have to. I'll see you in just a few minutes."

"Okay." Peter lowered the phone from his ear when the line went dead and pulled up the address Wade had sent him. He wondered vaguely if Wade was going to come meet him there. It sounded like something Wade would do. Sweet and considerate.

The walk to the apartment building three and a half blocks away seemed to take forever. Every movement Peter caught out of the corner of his eye caused his heart to skip a beat. Every loud noise from down the street made his steps falter. Every person he brushed past on the sidewalk had him flinching away. Knowing Norman had a plan, a plan to pull Peter limb from limb while Wade apparently watched, had him more on edge than he'd ever been before. It was no longer just some vague danger somewhere in the future. It could happen at any moment.

When he finally read the right number on the red awning of a fancy building across from a small park, Peter's vision was blurring around the edges again. Was this how panic attacks worked? Weren't they supposed to be over after a few minutes? Peter couldn't remember. He was counting his heartbeats to calculate his BPM in a detached sort of way and had just come to a stop outside the front doors when someone grabbed his arm.

Peter jerked in surprise, but almost immediately recognized the towering figure radiating heat at his side. Wade led him in through the doors, hand remaining a warm, comforting pressure around his left bicep, and nodded confidently at the doorman stationed inside. Peter let the brightly colored lobby blur into the background as Wade took him across the floor and immediately stepped them into an empty elevator. Peter leaned into his touch as the doors slid shut with a gentle sound, the pressure on his chest easing a little as he tried to take a deep breath.

"Jesus fuck, you're shaking." Wade murmured gently, turning Peter to face him. He ran both hands lightly over Peter's arms and took a half step back, clearly looking the boy over for injuries. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Peter's eyes were glued to Wade's, hungrily absorbing the concern and worry, the fierce compassion he could see there in those light blue depths. They were always so expressive, practically glowing with the intensity of Wade's emotions even under the shadow of a baseball cap and hood. "I… I'm…" He couldn't seem to get the words out. He didn't know what he wanted to say, anyway. What _could_ he say?

The elevator dinged lightly and the doors opened on the tenth floor. Wade led them out into the hall, never once taking his hand off Peter. In a few seconds, he was unlocking a door and leading them into a suite that was much nicer than any of the other run-down apartments Wade seemed to have all around the city.

Peter watched, grateful, as Wade locked the door behind them, helped Peter take his backpack off, and sat him down on the soft suede couch. He met Peter's eyes, gaze burning serious and deadly when he asked, "Did someone hurt you, Peter?"

He shook his head mutely, the ghost of Norman's hand tight around his neck.

Wade seemed to relax incrementally at that silent assurance, but he didn't take his hand off Peter's arm. Peter was glad about that. "Did something scare you?"

He nodded, figuring that was as good an explanation as any. Without waiting for more questions that he wouldn't know how to answer, he leaned forward, closing the distance between them and pressing his face into Wade's collarbone.

Wade went still for a moment before his strong arms wound their way around Peter's back and held him there, infinitely gentle. "It's okay." He murmured, breath warming the top of Peter's head. "You're okay."

Peter sank into him with a small shudder, breath releasing in a hitched sob as Wade spoke the words he wanted so badly to hear. He tangled his fingers in the front of Wade's sweatshirt and held on, letting himself relax into the warmth that was now surrounding him. Wade ran one hand slowly down his spine and back up again, setting a soothing rhythm for Peter to match his breathing to. And each inhale and exhale felt a little easier, a little less heavy.

"I'm coming to find you if it takes me all night." Wade began to sing softly, voice muffled and quiet in Peter's hair. "Wrong until you make it right." He sounded quieter, more hesitant than usual, and something about that made it feel so tender. "And I won't forget you. At least I'll try and run tonight." He held Peter a little closer, almost but not quite pulling his small frame right into his lap, and that last cord of tightness unraveled from Peter's chest and he could breathe again. He pressed his face tighter into Wade's neck and inhaled him. "Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright." He sang so gently, his voice a low, soothing rumble, and Peter let his eyes slip closed, let his fear slip into the background. "Everything will be alright… Everything will be alright."

For a moment, Peter believed him.

Wade trailed off until he was humming under his breath, and Peter marveled at just how gentle and caring the mercenary could be. Time and time again, he proved that he could take care of Peter. He knew exactly what the young mess of a hero needed, even when Peter didn't know it himself. He trusted Wade completely.

With a small hum of his own, Peter pulled back to meet Wade's eyes. "Thanks." He whispered, unsure if his voice would be steady enough to speak at a normal volume.

Wade gave him a small, sad smile that still managed to warm his heart. "Anytime, Peter."

And he said Peter's name. His real name. And he was looking at Peter with eyes unfiltered by the fabric of his mask, eyes soft with _something_. And it felt like the most natural thing in the world (because it was) when Peter leaned forward and caught Wade's lips against his own.

There was no hesitation. It was automatic. Easy. Like breathing. The kiss was gentle and achingly sweet and Wade's mouth was so soft on his, safe. Perfect. And one of Wade's hands slid up to tangle lightly in Peter's hair, and his _fingers_ were in Peter's _hair_ and it was everything he'd dreamed of. Everything.

It was home.

And kissing Wade had always felt wonderful but it had never felt like home before. Peter didn't want it to end, but when it did, Wade's lips brushing one last soft caress against the corner of his mouth, he felt content. Whole. Wade let his forehead rest against Peter's, their breath mingling lightly. And when Peter opened his eyes, he met Wade's wide blue gaze, full of wonder. And he smiled.

It was everything.

"Wade." He breathed, reverent. Wade pulled back slightly, his hand falling away from the back of Peter's head. "I have to tell you something." It was time. He'd waited long enough. And he hadn't planned on doing this now, but Wade was his and he was Wade's and it was time. And it would work out, because everything with Wade worked out. Everything was just _right_. "I'm –"

Wade jerked away from him and stood up in one quick motion, the sudden lack of contact leaving Peter cold and confused. "Wait." The word was rough. Short. "Just… Just hold on." Wade turned away from him before Peter could decipher the expression crossing his face. He watched, lips parted in surprise, as Wade paced away a couple of feet and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "No… Oh fuck fuck fuck I know." He was growling under his breath, too low for Peter to have heard without super hearing. "But I can't… No fucking way. I never thought- No."

Icey fear trickled into Peter's veins, chilling him all of a sudden. Was Wade freaking out? Shit. He was freaking out, wasn't he? But no. No no no, this moment was _perfect_. Wade just needed to know. "Wade." He moved to the edge of the couch, sitting up straighter as he tried to get Wade's attention back on him. "Stop. Just listen. I have to tell you –"

Wade whirled around to face him, holding his hands up in front of him as if to stop Peter from approaching. "Nope. No, no. Can't. I shouldn't have… I'm sorry." His expressive face was a mask of frustration and pain, and Peter's heart ached.

"No!" He insisted, clenching his hands at his sides and resisting the urge to stand up, not wanting to scare Wade off. "No, it's okay. Really. I was going to tell you that I'm –"

"I'm in love with someone else."

Peter froze. He felt the blood drain from his face. The words had an immediate, visceral effect, causing Peter's stomach to twist into a knot and try to fall out of his body. His heart raced. His mind went blank. He stared at Wade with wide eyes and the silence between them was thick with gut-churning _wrong_.

Delayed by a few full seconds, Peter's brain finally caught up with his body. He knew, logically he knew, that Wade could only be talking about one person. Him. Him as Spider-Man. And so it wasn't really what it felt like. This wasn't Wade telling him that there was someone else, so there was no reason to feel like his heart was trying to claw its way up his throat right now.

But he did. He couldn't help it. Maybe if he told Wade, this horrible feeling would go away. "But, Wade, I…"

Wade shook his head violently, taking another step backwards. "No, I'm… I have a… I have someone else. I love him." Peter felt like his heart was breaking and bursting all at once.

Wade loved him.

But he didn't love _him_.

"So, I'm sorry, but –" Wade crossed his arms tightly over his chest and turned his head to the side, hissing. "I'm fucking telling him. Shut up, I… No. No fucking way."

Peter stood up, swallowing against the hollow burn in his throat. "Wade, just listen."

"You have a boyfriend, anyway." Wade snapped, face twisting into an angry frown as he refocused on Peter. "So it's not like… So this isn't… You're dating that Osborn kid."

Peter stared, shocked by the sudden turn in the conversation. "Well, that's not really…"

"It doesn't even matter." Wade turned away from him, stalking over to glare out of the window. "You and I couldn't… We could never be together."

Peter felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "What?"

"I could never be with you." There was a moment that stretched on for an eternity. When Wade turned back around, his eyes were hard. Hard and terribly blank. "You're just a kid. I don't want…" He trailed off, mouth twisting into a grimace.

Peter couldn't breathe.

Wade walked to the door, and each step he took was a scalpel to Peter's heart. He uncrossed his arms to reach for the doorknob, and Peter could hear him muttering to himself beneath the rush of blood in his ears. "I know… I know but we fucking have to. We just can't…" He paused with the door halfway open, not even bothering to turn around as he told Peter, "Stay as long as you want. I'll catch ya later." His voice was rough, twisted with something hard and painful, but all Peter heard was the door as it clicked shut behind him.

He left.

Peter sat on the couch. It smelled like Wade. He stood up and crossed to the window, fingers shaking when he pressed them to the glass.

Wade didn't want him.

Peter sucked in a ragged breath. His head spun.

He needed to get out of here.

Getting home felt like the hardest thing Peter had ever done. He didn't think it could get worse after he learned about Norman, but this… This was worse.

He cried on the subway. Peter hadn't cried in public since he was a little kid, new to living with his Aunt and Uncle after his parents died so suddenly. But now there he was, sitting between the subway window and an elderly woman who smelled like mothballs, tears running down his face while he choked into his fist, trying to stifle the sobs.

When he finally slammed the apartment door closed behind him and managed to collapse onto his unmade bed, the sobs only grew harsher.

Wade didn't want to be with him. He was _just a kid_. It shouldn't have felt like a rejection, but it did. It was.

And he knew it was stupid to be this upset. Wade loved Spider-Man. He was staying true to Spider-Man. Honestly, Peter should be happy about that. He wouldn't want Wade to cheat on him, would he? No. So he shouldn't be snotting all over his pillow like he was Bella and Edward had just left him in the woods.

And then suddenly, in the middle of all the crying and snotting and mentally berating himself for being so stupid, Peter had a terrible thought.

What if Wade was in love with someone else? What if there was someone other than Spider-Man?

It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. Wade would _never_ do that. And yet… It was possible, in some slim capacity. Possible.

And Peter couldn't handle that thought. He dissolved into nothing but salt water and a big, aching hole in his chest. He cried himself hoarse and then cried some more. He cried himself to sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When Peter woke up, it was dark outside. His eyes felt crusty and his throat hurt. He sat up and glanced at his alarm clock. It was just past eight. He felt hollow.

He forced himself out of bed and padded into the kitchen. Aunt May had left him dinner in the fridge, but the thought of eating anything made his stomach churn. She wouldn't be done with work until after midnight, so Peter had time to kill.

He should put on his Spider-Man suit and go tell Wade about the Green Goblin. He deserved to know. And Peter needed help figuring out what to do. He might as well get it over with now. So with only a moment of hesitation and a dull ache in his chest, Peter pulled out his phone and texted Wade from his Spidey number, asking to meet in half an hour.

For the first time in a long time, Peter didn't want to see Wade.

He didn't want to. But he needed to.

Wade responded within the minute, so Peter jumped in the shower before putting on his suit and crawling out the window. It was a warm night, and the air rushing past him as he swung through Queens was a welcome sensation. It wasn't until he landed on the edge of their roof and saw Wade outlined against the city lights that he realized how hard this was going to be on him.

Seeing Wade there, so strong and beautiful just standing there, was physically painful. He cleared his throat resentfully and forced himself to greet the man normally. "Hey, Pool." He called as he walked over to him. He hoped Wade wouldn't notice that he sounded a bit rough.

Wade went stiff at the sound of his voice, and Peter's sharp eyes caught him tucking a gun back into his thigh holster before he turned around to face him. "Spidey!" He called back, and the fake edge of cheer to his voice was obvious. "Hey there, how ya hangin'?"

Peter shrugged. "I found out some stuff."

"What kinda stuff?" Wade skipped right into Peter's space and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing their hips together. Peter shivered, body caught between the urge to sink into Wade's embrace and the impulse to flinch away from his touch. Wade noticed. "You okay, Baby Boy?" He asked, voice full of concern. He let his arms fall away only to raise his hands to Peter's neck, thumbs settling comfortingly on either side of his jaw.

Peter whimpered, all of his hastily, shoddily made defenses instantaneously crumbling under Wade's touch. He had to know. Had to know that Wade was _his_ , at least partly. He had to know for sure. "Are you seeing anyone else?" He asked in a rush, unable to bring himself to care that his voice was choked with tears again.

Wade went still. Suddenly, sickeningly still. His mask was blank. Indecipherable. And Peter _hated_ his Deadpool mask in that moment. Hated it. He wanted to see Wade's eyes so he could know what he was thinking. Feeling. Was he shocked? Scared? Guilty? Or angry? Sad?

His heart felt like it was clenched in a fist until Wade's hands tightened on his neck and he pulled their foreheads together, pressing in close. "No." He growled, low and full of conviction. "No one but you, Spidey."

Peter reached up to grip lightly at Wade's wrists, closed his eyes, breathed out in resignation. "Okay." He whispered. He tipped his face up and pressed his lips against Wade's through spandex and leather. And that's how it always was, wasn't it? Spandex and leather between them. Peter was sick of it. With a low, desperate sound, he reached up to pull Wade's mask out of the way. Wade was there too, his thumbs slipping beneath the edge of Spidey's mask and swiping up his jaw, pushing the fabric over his mouth.

And then they were kissing again. A deep, filthy kiss, all tongue and teeth. Like they both had something to make up for.

"Only you, Baby Boy." Wade vowed against his mouth, honey and crushed glass. "It's only you." Peter bit at Wade's tongue, pressing in closer, fighting to get deeper. The taste of peppermint was haunting. And when he couldn't get close enough, he grabbed hold of Wade's katana straps and hurled him to the ground.

Wade landed on his back with a grunt, and Peter didn't hesitate to climb on top, straddling Wade's hips and leaning over him to press their tongues together once again. The mercenary let out a startled moan when Peter worked his hands under the strap of his belt, clever fingers searching for a seam, a zipper, something to get inside. "Need you." He growled into Wade's mouth, teeth finding his lower lip and clamping down.

Wade gasped, his hips jolting upwards into Peter's. "Take me. Fuck, take me. All of me. Whatever you want. _Fuck_." His hands landed on Peter's ass, fingers digging in as he pulled him down, pressing the hard lines of their arousal together in a filthy thrust. They both moaned at the friction.

Peter broke away from the kiss to sit up, throwing his head back as he planted his hands on Wade's waist and rolled his hips, whining and shuddering as Wade's cock pressed into the cleft of his ass. And this. This was what he needed. Needed Wade closer. As close as he could possibly be. "I want you in me." He gasped, ragged and desperate. He slid one hand up Wade's chest and leaned over him, staring into those horrible blank eye patches. "I want you to fuck me."

Wade groaned brokenly. "Oh, fuck…" He grabbed at Peter's thighs and held tight, keeping them attached at the hips as he flipped them over with a sudden, powerful surge of strength. And then he was pressing Peter into the rooftop and thrusting hard against him, lips and teeth finding the tender line of his neck. And Peter was drowning in heat and yes yes _yes_.

He reached for Wade's belt again, trying to get it off, pull it out of the way. Wade jerked away with a grunt, quick to grab Peter's wrists and pin them to the ground. Peter whined and squirmed, the light restraint sending unexpected jolts of arousal burning through his stomach. Wade sucked in a harsh breath, staring down at him. "Oh… Fuck, Baby Boy." He sounded like he was in pain. "You like that, don't you?" Peter tipped his head back, panting heavily, and squirmed to push his hips up, trying to get the friction back. But Wade held himself still, away, even as his head dropped into Peter's neck with a low groan. "Oh fuck shit fuck fuck oh my god…"

"Please." Peter gasped, hooking his legs around Wade's hips and tugging him down until he was pressed snug against Peter's ass once again, hot and hard. "Wade, please…"

Wade groaned again, like he was dying, and squeezed Peter's wrists. But then he was pulling away, sitting back on his heels and putting one hand on Peter's stomach, holding him down. Keeping him away. "Wait, just… Wait." He tipped his face to the sky and whined in frustration. "God, Yellow, I know… Fuck, but we can't. No…" He fixed his gaze on Peter and even through the mask he looked pleading. "Not here, Spidey."

Peter frowned, trying to ignore the sting of rejection in his chest, and grabbed Wade's hand to slide it down over the hard line of his erection, straining against the suit. "But I want you." He breathed. Wade shuddered hard, but he remained where he was, _not_ ravishing the needy boy beneath him. Peter growled in frustration. He used his feet for leverage, lifting his ass and sliding forward, up Wade's thighs until he was once again settled over the hard line of his cock, upper back pressed lewdly into the ground as he arched his pelvis forward. "Don't you want me?"

Wade crumpled forward with a whimper, burying his face in Peter's chest as his hands landed on Peter's hips, holding him still. "Fuck, of course… _Of course_ I do." His words came out strangled. "You're fucking killing me, Baby Boy. You have no idea…" He took a deep, shaking breath and sat back up again, giving Peter that same pleading look. "But I can't take your virginity outside on the top of some roof."

Peter stared up at him, mouth falling open in surprise. That's why Wade wasn't fucking him right now? He was trying to be good to Spidey. He was trying to do this right. Peter felt a sudden, fierce affection for the masked mercenary. He arched his back and pulled himself up, sitting fully in Wade's lap and wrapping his arms around solid shoulders. "Then take me to your place." He murmured in Wade's ear.

Wade hummed, standing up in one fluid motion with Peter in his arms.

Peter got down so he could help them both off the roof. Once they were safely on the ground, he followed Wade through the back streets of New York, holding onto his belt with two fingers the entire time. Wade took them to a familiar building, the one where he and Peter had played Mario Cart that time so long ago. Remembering that evening sent a small pang through Peter's chest, but he pushed it aside.

Wade let them in and Peter glanced around. It was messy, but not much different from the last time he'd been here, like maybe Wade hadn't been around much since then. He turned to Wade, ready to continue where they'd left off. But the mercenary was standing beside the door, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he shifted restlessly from foot to foot.

He was nervous.

Peter let out a gentle exhale and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Wade's waist and resting his head on his chest. He smiled slightly when he felt Wade relax, his arms snaking around Peter's shoulders to hold him close. They stood like that for a few moments before Peter turned his head, pressing a kiss into warm leather. "You got a bedroom in here?"

Wade let out a weak laugh. "You betcha. Let me give you a tour." He reached down, gripping Peter's thighs and pulling them up to hitch around his waist. He carried the hero past the couch and through a door on the other side of the room, then he was slowly and carefully laying Peter down on a large, soft bed.

The room was dark, but Peter could see the dim outline of a cluttered bedside table, an open closet, indistinct posters taped to the walls. Wade crawled over him, leaving gentle kisses along his stomach and chest. Peter let his eyes slip closed, breath quickening as the line of Wade's body hovered over his. Their lips met again, soft at first, but Peter was quick to deepen the kiss. He slid his tongue against Wade's, drawing a low moan from the mercenary, and lifted his hips to connect them once again.

It didn't take long for the heat to build back up, and soon Peter was panting for it, fingers curling around Wade's katana straps and tugging. "Off." He muttered against hot, slick lips. Wade was quick to comply, tearing the weapons off his back without breaking the kiss and tossing them aside. The belt went next, falling to the floor with a dull thud, and then there was nothing to stop Peter from rutting up against him, hard and desperate. "Please…" He begged again, breathless.

Wade let out a low groan, fingers curling under Peter's thighs and pushing his legs up and back, his knees hitching over Wade's biceps. And then he was pressing so hard and big against Peter's ass, thrusting quick and dirty, and hot pleasure shot through Peter's stomach. His mouth fell open with a short, choked off cry, head tipping back into the mattress as his fingers clutched reflexively at Wade's shoulders.

Wade went still with a strangled growl, lips finding Peter's neck. "God, I wanna… Wanna fuck you so hard, Baby Boy." Peter whimpered. "Wanna see you writhe on my cock." He thrust once, slow and firm, and Peter shook. "But I… I can't hurt you." He was breathing hard with the effort of holding himself in check. "Gotta take it slow." He pressed a kiss into the junction of Peter's shoulder before pulling back slightly to look down at him. "I wanna do this right."

Peter panted, struggling to wrestle back his lust, get control over his body. Because Wade was right. They _should_ do this the right way. Wade deserved that. "Yeah." He breathed, nodding slightly. "Yeah. Let's… Let's take it slow."

Wade smiled at him, so sweet and beautiful, and then he was trailing kisses down Peter's chest and stomach, lingering over the seam of his suit before tugging the fabric out of the way. And then his teeth were on Peter's hipbone and he gasped, body jerking slightly as Wade bit down. "You're _so_ beautiful…" Wade whispered into his skin, and Peter ached.

Wade pulled Peter's pants off slowly, trailing his tongue in wide, hot strokes from one hip to the other. One of Peter's hands landed on the back of Wade's head, lightly gripping at his mask, while his other hand tangled in the sheets beneath them. And then Wade's tongue was dipping lower, trailing up the side of his cock, and Peter gasped. He couldn't stop the quiet, desperate little noises that fell from his lips as Wade mouthed wet kisses down his length, gloved fingers wrapping around his base and squeezing lightly. Everything was growing fuzzy with heat and need when Wade pulled away, leaving Peter to whimper at the loss.

"Just a second, Baby Boy." Wade murmured comfortingly, leaning over to rifle around on the bedside table for something. Peter heard the click of a cap opening, and he shivered with anticipation. Wade's mouth returned, warm and wet against his thigh, and he almost didn't catch the breathless question pressed into his skin. "You ever been touched here before?" A finger, textured with scars and slick with lube but incredibly warm, slid gently down the line of his ass, sinking between his cheeks.

Peter's breath hitched. "N-no…" He confessed, voice rough with lust.

Wade moaned against him before raising his head slightly, looking up the planes of Peter's body to meet his masked gaze. "You remember our safe word?" Peter swallowed, nodding quickly. "Good." He pressed a kiss against one trembling thigh. "Color?"

Peter blinked down at him, his mind taking a moment to work properly. "Green." He managed.

Wade hummed approvingly and trailed his lips to the base of Peter's cock. "You tell me the second anything goes yellow or red, yeah?" Peter nodded shakily, and that seemed to be enough for Wade, because then his tongue was sliding up the underside of his length and before Peter could even shudder at the sensation, soft lips were wrapping tightly around his sensitive head.

Peter gritted his teeth around a moan, hips jerking slightly as he tried to keep himself still. And then Wade's mouth was sinking down over him, hot and wet and velvet, and at the same time the tip of his finger pressed gently against Peter's hole. Peter gasped, one hand flying up to his mouth as he stifled a cry, his whole body shuddering at the sharp, powerful surge of arousal that rolled through him.

Wade rolled his tongue in some magical way and Peter felt himself starting to dissolve into a blur of pleasure. But then the tip of his slick finger pushed forward, just barely breaching the tight ring of muscle, and everything snapped back into sharp focus again. Peter whimpered into his palm, shaking with the effort of holding himself still as the foreign sensation washed over him. It burned a little, but the heat of Wade's mouth and the thick knot of need and pleasure in Peter's stomach drowned that small bit of discomfort in so much _yes_ that it mostly just felt… good.

And Wade was sucking lightly, head bobbing slowly up and down as Peter drowned in pleasure and Wade's finger slipped carefully deeper inside him. And the sudden realization that Wade was _in_ him caused Peter's hips to jolt, arousal so thick and heavy that he couldn't stop himself from pushing back, pushing Wade _deeper_. And it stung a little, but Wade was in him and he didn't care.

Wade moaned around his cock and Peter shuddered, hips twitching shallowly, uncontrollably up into Wade's mouth and down onto his finger. And it was so much all at once. So much good. And Wade must have sunk his finger in all the way down to the last knuckle, because then he was pulling slowly back out, and the sensation of his scarred skin dragging along Peter's insides was… _Fuck_. And when he pushed back in, smooth and firm, Peter cried out, back arching up off the bed.

Wade twisted his hand, pushing in just a little more, and then he brushed against something in Peter that sent white hot pleasure lancing through his whole body. His orgasm hit so hard and unexpectedly, tearing through him like lightning and leaving him shaking and panting, a wrecked mess. Wade hollowed out his cheeks, letting Peter thrust into his mouth as he came across his tongue. He slid off gently before Peter could become oversensitive, carefully slipping his finger out and wiping it off on his thigh. Peter shivered against the sheets, feeling strangely empty without Wade in him, and stared up at the ceiling, dazed.

"Fuck." Wade breathed, crawling back up the bed to lay himself out at Peter's side, one arm curling tightly around the hero's waist.

It took a few seconds before Peter could speak. "Sorry." He mumbled, voice hoarse. "We were gonna…"

"No, Baby Boy…" Wade hushed him. "Fuck, you were so hot. That was perfect." He pressed closer, and Peter could feel the hard line of his cock against his thigh, straining against its leather confines. "Don't think for a second that that wasn't the most perfect thing ever… Fuck. And besides." He pressed a kiss into Peter's shoulder. "We don't need to rush anything, okay? We've got time."

They had time.

Peter hummed happily, rolling over and sitting up beside Wade, running one hand over the mercenary's still-clothed stomach. "Yeah, we do." He agreed. He nudged Wade's knees open and crawled between his thighs, smiling slightly when he heard the man's heart beat speeding up. He reached for the zipper on the front of his pants, visible now that the belt was gone.

Wade moaned lightly as Peter unzipped him, hands coming to rest on the boy's forearms. "You don't have to…" He breathed, but there wasn't much conviction in the words.

Peter just slipped one hand into Wade's pants and wrapped his fingers around the thick base of his beautiful cock. "Shut up." He scolded gently. Wade moaned again as Peter pulled him free, hands falling away to grip at the sheets instead. Peter leaned over, letting his breath fan across Wade's tip, already slick with precome. "I liked how you felt inside me." He murmured, smiling with satisfaction when Wade jolted, his dick twitching in Peter's hand.

He hadn't really thought much about sucking dicks before, but looking down at Wade's, he was surprised by how much he wanted to feel it in his mouth. Feel how heavy it would be on his tongue. See how Wade would taste. He licked his lips, and Wade twitched again. Glancing up to meet his gaze, Peter slowly leaned down until he could wrap his lips around the head. He closed his eyes and pressed his tongue flat against the tip, tasting him. It was salty. Not bad. As Peter carefully sunk his mouth down a little further, feeling Wade's cock slide back along his tongue, Wade let out a broken, stifled moan, his whole body shuddering.

Encouraged by the reaction, Peter drew back up an inch and pushed forward again. He wanted to see how far he could get. He didn't stop until he felt Wade's head brushing the edge of his throat. Startled, Peter gagged, his fingers tightening around Wade's base as he pulled back a little. With no warning, Wade's fingers were tight around the back of his mask, pulling Peter's mouth off him with a strangled gasp. Peter watched, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise, as Wade's hips arched off the bed, cock pulsing as he came. A bit of hot, milky liquid splattered across Peter's cheek.

Wade shook, his fingers loosening around Spidey's mask as he gasped for air, chest heaving. Peter swallowed, stomach twisting and cock stirring with undeniable arousal as his eyes roamed over Wade's flushed jaw and wrinkled suit, wet spots slowly soaking into the fabric on his stomach. "Fuck…" He breathed.

"Sorry." Wade mumbled, reaching down to tuck himself back into his pants.

Peter whined. "Fuck no." He crawled over Wade, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him enthusiastically. "God you're so hot." He breathed, scraping his teeth lightly over Wade's lower lip. Wade moaned against his mouth and raised one bare hand to Peter's jaw, dragging his thumb through the wetness on his cheek. Peter shivered.

"Jesus fuck you're perfect." Wade breathed as Peter pulled away, rolling over onto his side and curling up under Wade's arm. "Yeah, I know. So fucking lucky." Peter just hummed softly, letting his eyes slip closed as he pressed close to the heat of Wade's body.

They lay there for a minute or two, both catching their breath and coming down. Peter still wanted Wade to fuck him. Badly. But if he was being honest, it was probably a good choice not to go all the way tonight. As amazing as it had felt to have Wade inside him, just one finger had been enough to burn a little. And he knew Wade would take care of him and make sure he wasn't hurt, but the thought of being stretched enough to accommodate Wade's considerable size was a bit intimidating.

After a while, Wade started singing under his breath. "What you've got, boy, is hard to find. I think about it all the time. I'm all strung out, my heart is fried. I just can't get you off my mind."

Peter shifted his head on Wade's shoulder, grinning lightly. "Are you singing Kesha right now?"

Wade just raised the volume as he sang the chorus. "Because your love, your love, your love is my drug! Your love, your love, your love..." He chuckled, pulling Peter more securely into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Yeah, Yellow. She's my ho. I was talking to Kesha when we first met, don't you remember?"

Peter smiled, but a small pang of sadness had planted itself in his chest. "Yeah, I remember." He closed his eyes again, breathing in deeply to catch the scent of Wade that was all around him. All over him. In him.

This was good. It was good. Wade really loved Spider-Man. So it was okay that he didn't want to be with Peter because… Because Spider-Man was more important anyway. Peter's better half. If anyone could hold Deadpool's attention and affections, it was Spider-Man.

But the memory of Wade's face when he told Peter he didn't want him was a knife between his ribs, and each breath hurt. Peter untangled himself from Wade's arms and sat up, breathing out slowly. "I should go home." He whispered.

Wade sat up too. "You don't want to patrol?" He asked hopefully.

Peter sighed. "No, I… I'm still really tired. I think I want to go home and try to catch up on sleep." He knew he should tell Wade about the Green Goblin, but he didn't want to ruin their evening. And he still wasn't sure he wanted to give Wade an excuse to go after Norman Osborn. Aside from the moral ambiguity of the distinct possibility of murder, Peter was nervous for Wade. Norman seemed to think he was involved in some way, even more than just as Spider-Man's partner. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't like the idea of Norman having Deadpool in his sights; he still didn't know exactly how much the CEO was actually capable of. He didn't _think_ there was anything that could permanently hurt Wade, but he didn't want to take any chances.

"Oh… Alright, yeah. You should get your sleep." Wade's disappointment was clear, and that made it hurt even more. But Peter was pretty sure that if he stayed, he'd end up crying in Wade's bed and just making everything worse. He just needed a little time, he told himself. This would be okay. It would. He'd get over the stupid little rejection because Wade was still his. So it really didn't matter.

"Want to grab tacos when we meet tomorrow night?" He asked as he found his pants and pulled them on, hoping to make up for leaving Wade early tonight.

Wade's answering grin was practically blinding. "Spidey-Babe, I _never_ say no to tacos."

Peter couldn't help but grin back. "I know." He leaned over the bed and pressed a gentle kiss to Wade's lips. "Don't get up." He murmured. "I think I can find my way out." He climbed off the bed and walked to the door, pausing to look back at Wade one more time. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Baby Boy."

Peter left feeling a little listless and melancholy, but much better than he had earlier. Even if Wade wasn't into Peter Parker, he was still Spidey's. And that was enough.

He was almost home when he felt his phone buzzing against his leg. He stopped off on a random rooftop in Queens to pull it out and check the caller ID. It was Aunt May. A quick glance at the time told him she wasn't supposed to be done with work for at least another hour. He answered with a small frown. "Hey Aunt May, did you get off early?" There was a long moment of silence, and Peter's brow creased with concern. "Aunt May?"

"Aunt May can't come to the phone right now." Peter almost dropped the phone, his whole body jerking in shock at the sound of his voice. Mechanic and chilling. "You see, she's a little… Well, tied up."

He opened his mouth to ask Norman what the hell he'd done with May, but he couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe.

The Goblin didn't seem to mind his silence. He chuckled, low and unnatural. "Come find her on a rooftop near the place we first met. And Peter? You might want to hurry." His chuckles grew into laughs, and the sound filled Peter with terror. "My boys have been instructed to start removing fingers in fifteen minutes!" The line rang with maniacal laughter before it went dead.

Peter gasped for breath, a bitter taste on his tongue as adrenalin flooded his veins. He found himself on his knees without knowing when he fell there. He stared down at the blank screen of his phone, clutched in shaking fingers. Fuck. Fuck.

"Focus." Peter hissed, raising his hands to press his fists into his eyes once, hard. "Come on, focus." He couldn't afford to freak out right now. He needed to be smart. He needed to save Aunt May.

He gave himself thirty seconds to think it through.

He'd seen enough crime tv to be suspicious of criminals claiming to have kidnapped someone just to set a trap for the protagonist. This was clearly a trap, but Peter didn't think Norman was lying about having Aunt May. He'd called from her phone, and she never went anywhere without it. Besides, he was too thorough to leave any loose ends, and too sadistic to allow the only family Peter had left to remain safe. So Aunt May was most likely in real danger.

Now where was she? Did Norman mean the place where Spider-Man and the Green Goblin had first met, or Norman and Peter? Peter had met Norman the first time he'd gone over to Harry's place, the apartment building on the upper east side. He'd first gone up against the Green Goblin in Times Square. The voice on the phone was Green Goblin's, not just Norman's. This vendetta was against Spider-Man, not just Peter. And for as long as Peter had known him, Norman always had a flair for the dramatic. He'd want to make a scene. Times Square it was.

Peter leapt to his feet, glancing at his phone once again. It had been just over a minute since the call went through. He swiped over to Wade's number, thumb hovering over the call button.

If Wade saw that Aunt May was the hostage, he would figure out who Peter was. There was no doubt about that. After today… "No time." Peter muttered to himself, tucking the phone away and shooting a web, swinging off towards Times Square. Wade probably couldn't get there in time to help, anyway.

He swung as quickly as he could, waiting until the last possible second to shoot the next web, keeping his arcs short and momentum high. It took him about eight minutes to get to Times Square. He swung to the tallest building in the area and climbed quickly to the top for the best vantage point. "Come on, come on." He muttered, heart racing as he skimmed the surrounding rooftops. He concentrated on extending his hearing, listening for the sound of May's voice.

"You've got it wrong! I don't have any money." There! His head whipped to the side, searching for the source of Aunt May's wavering voice. "And I don't know any rich people who would pay for me either! I'm afraid you've picked the wrong woman for a hostage."

His eyes snagged on three dark figures on a rooftop about a block away. He started swinging there, heart in his throat.

"Shut up, lady." A gruff voice silenced her, and Peter gritted his teeth. He landed on the side of the building next door and surveyed the situation. Norman wasn't here. Aunt May was tied to a simple wooden chair with synthetic rope, still in her nurse's uniform. One man stood behind her, holding a semi-automatic rifle. The other was pacing a few feet away. Peter could see a handgun and a serious looking knife holstered to his belt.

Only two… Peter knew it must be a trap of some sort, but his fifteen minutes was going to be up soon. He needed to get Aunt May out of here. He took a quick breath and launched himself silently onto the edge of the roof, landing in a crouch to stay out of sight as long as possible. He waited until the pacing man was as far away as he was likely to get, and shot a web at the rifle.

He yanked it out of the man's grip and let it hurtle over the drop behind him, ignoring the responding cry of surprise. He turned his attention to the other man, who was drawing his pistol as he swung around to face them, alerted by the other's shout. Peter shot another web, catching the second gun. His spidey sense tingled and he jumped up, flipping forward to avoid the bullet and yanking the gun away as the shot rang out into the night air.

Aunt May made a small sound of surprise, but Peter was occupied. He kicked the man who had shot at him in the chest, knocking him out of reach before he could draw his knife, and twisted to shoot another web at the first man, hauling him away from Aunt May. He hit the ground hard and slid several feet across the rooftop.

Another sharp tingle shot down his spine and he lunged back, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a knife from the second one. He dodged two more swipes before catching the man's wrist and breaking it. He screamed, short and shocked, before falling to his knees. Peter twisted the knife from his grip and tossed it away, kneeing the man in the nose and leaving him on the ground.

The first one was climbing back to his feet, but Peter didn't let him stay there. He shot another web and pulled the man towards him, quickly webbing his arms to his sides and knocking his feet out from under him with a swift kick, then webbing him securely to the ground. The other one was kneeling where Peter had left him, face covered in blood and wrist held limply in his other hand. Peter webbed him up, too, then glanced around for anyone or anything else.

There was nothing.

"This isn't right." He muttered to himself, a sense of foreboding building in his chest. But his spidey sense was quiet, so he dashed to Aunt May's side and reached out to tear the ropes off with one hard yank. "Get to the stairs and get out." He told her, pitching his voice lower than usual in the hopes that she wouldn't recognize it. "Head towards somewhere crowded and call the police."

May nodded shakily and stood up. "Thank you." She told him, polite to the very end, and Peter watched as she ran towards the door a few yards away, graying hair flying out of its usual bun. He watched until she disappeared, and the back of his neck prickled dully. He turned, and the Green Goblin was hovering beyond the edge of the roof behind him.

"Shame." He said, distorted voice sending chills down Peter's back. "I was hoping you'd bring your boyfriend."

Peter let out a small breath of relief, glad that Wade wasn't here to play into Norman's plans. "Why?" Peter asked, desperate and angry all at once. "What do you want with him?"

Norman tutted and shook his head as if scolding a young child. "I want him to watch, of course! You see…" He zipped forward towards Peter, but Peter jumped out of the way, coming to perch on top of an air vent. The Goblin circled around almost lazily. "He broke some of my toys, and I'm quite miffed with him. I'd like him to feel some real pain." He came to a stop and hovered a few yards away. "Which is why I'm quite disappointed to find out he'll be missing the show. Aren't you two usually together around this time of night? I planned so carefully…"

Peter frowned, his stomach sinking with dread. "What show?" He asked, voice hard.

"Oh, you'll see." The Goblin answered mildly, lifting one wrist as if he were checking a watch. "So tell me. Trouble in paradise? Is it not working out as well as you hoped with the mass murdering psychopath?"

He was stalling, Peter realized all at once. If he wanted to prevent whatever Norman was planning, he was going to have to act now. Without giving himself time to doubt his instincts, he launched himself at the Goblin, aiming to knock him off his hover sled. Norman swerved away almost instantly, but Peter managed to catch the side of his board and hold on. He reached for one of the exhaust pipes in the back and squeezed, feeling it crumple under his grip. And then the Green Goblin's metal-toed boot connected with his head and he lost his grip, falling to the rooftop. He rolled to lessen the impact, but he still hit the ground hard, leaving him with what felt like a sprained shoulder and a sharply aching head. He shot to his feet, ready to engage Norman again and let his accelerated healing handle the injuries as best it could, but the Goblin was keeping his distance, hovering out of Peter's reach.

"Now that wasn't very nice." He growled, and Peter was pleased to see that he was having a bit of trouble holding the sled steady now. "Don't tell me you want to miss the show, too?"

"What show?" Peter asked again, eyes running over the Goblin's sled for any other weak spots he could try to exploit. If he could just get him out of the air…

"What do you think, is Aunt May almost out of the building by now?" Peter's gaze snapped up to the Goblin's distended grin, his heart jolting in his chest. "Shall we see?" Norman raised one hand, and Peter's eyes locked on a small black device he held, like a remote.

A remote with only one button.

"No!" Peter cried, lunging forward. But it was too late. Norman's thumb pressed down over the single red button.

The building shook under them, a huge crash like the sound of thunder rolling up from below.

Peter ran to the edge and stared down in horror. The windows of the first three floors were completely blown out, flames licking into the air as smoke billowed up from the sight of the explosion.

Aunt May.

Without a second thought, Peter launched himself down the side of the building, catching himself on the wall just above the flames. He searched desperately for a way in, the heat nearly scalding already. He was just about to jump in, fire be damned, when he heard it.

"Help! Somebody! Help!" It was May.

He kicked in a window on the fourth floor and slid inside, coughing when his first inhale brought smoke to his lungs. He rushed forward, following the sound of Aunt May's voice. He found her by the stairwell, face streaked with soot but otherwise in one piece. "You're okay?" He asked desperately, grabbing her by the arms.

She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. "Yes, I… I stopped on the stairs t-to catch my breath, and… What's going on?"

Peter pulled her towards the window, heart still pounding as his eyes began to water from the smoke. "I'm going to take you down, okay?" He told her, using one hand to knock the remaining glass form the window so she wouldn't get cut going through.

"B-But we're on the fourth…" May trailed off, peering fearfully out the broken window.

"Don't worry. Just hold on to me." Peter wrapped on arm around her waist and clung to the wall above the window with his other hand, hoisting them through. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck and her lips were pressed tight in fear when Peter shot a web at the building across the street and swung them over the fire as gently as he could, his shoulder protesting painfully. They touched down on the sidewalk outside a crowded restaurant and he released her, eyes already skimming the skies for the Green Goblin. "Get inside and don't come out until the police are here." He told her. He needed to finish this now.

Without waiting for a response, he shot another web and made his way back towards the roof of the building Green Goblin had planted bombs in. Peter wondered briefly if it was in danger of collapsing.

He found Norman hovering where he'd left him, hands clenched into fists at his side. "The Parkers just can't do what they're supposed to, can they?" He hissed menacingly before launching himself at Peter.

Peter leapt up to meet him. He wasn't afraid anymore. He was angry. Furious.

Norman had tried to _kill_ Aunt May.

Green Goblin swerved so they wouldn't collide, but Peter was expecting it. He shot a web at the hover sled and swung himself up and around, his feet hitting Norman's back with a solid thud. They both tumbled to the rooftop, hover board shooting out from under them.

Peter had the breath knocked out of him when they hit the ground, but he didn't let that slow him down. He found Norman's neck with his hand and held him still, raising his other first and bringing it down hard on the Goblin's face. The mask dented under his knuckles and Norman cried out in pain. But he was strong. He knocked Peter's arm aside with one hand and pushed him off, getting to his feet before Peter could stop him.

Peter's neck tingled sharply and he ducked out of the way as the Goblin's sled hurtled over his head. Norman jumped on and then he was flying away. "Let's take this somewhere a little less private, shall we?" He called out, laughing maniacally as he headed towards Times Square.

Peter couldn't let him get away again. He shot a web and followed close behind, anger burning in his throat.

He wanted this done.

Times Square was packed. Lights flashed and music streamed out of the restaurants and stores. People took pictures and bought tickets and waited in lines, carrying shopping backs and purses and backpacks, speaking dozens of languages. The Green Goblin hovered above them all and leered at Peter, holding an orange bomb in one hand.

He dropped it. Peter shot a web, catching it halfway down and yanking hard to send it hurling back into the air, as far away from people as he could get it. It exploded high above the ground, raining down ash and sickly green smoke.

People started screaming.

Peter swung towards Norman, another attempt to get him off his sled, but the Goblin dodged too quickly. Peter landed on a billboard and clung there, turning to shoot another web just as the Goblin sped past him. He caught the sled this time, a much safer target than Norman himself, and held on tight. The web went taut, but Peter clung with all his strength to the board beneath him. His arms wrenched forward, and for a moment he was afraid his shoulders would both dislocate, but his body held, muscles screaming, and the sled lurched sharply out of its trajectory.

He held on as momentum carried the Green Goblin in a wide arc and slammed him into the side of a building. Hard. Norman and the sled fell four stories to the ground.

Peter was on him as fast as he could get there. Norman seemed dazed, stumbling and holding onto the brick side of the building as he got slowly to his feet. Peter didn't give him any time to recover, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming him into the wall. He raised his fist and punched him hard in the jaw, denting the helmet in another place. He hit him again. And again. Until Norman hung limp in his grip.

He slid his fingers under the edge of the metal mask, ignoring the sharp pain in his battered knuckles, and yanked it off. Norman's face was bloody. His nose clearly broken and his lip badly split. Peter didn't care.

"You're done." He growled, shaking the man. "I won't let you hurt anyone else." Without bothering to open his eyes, Norman's lips curled upwards into a weak grin. He started to laugh. Low at first, but it slowly built into something wild and unhinged.

Peter gritted his teeth, unease stirring at the back of his mind. He pushed Norman against the wall one more time and webbed him there, pouring layer after layer of web fluid over him to make sure he wouldn't be able to break free.

The laughter didn't stop. It got louder. Peter was considering punching him in the face again when a sharp, painful shock of warning had him springing away before his mind could process what his body was doing.

There was a sickening crunch, and the laughter cut off abruptly.

Peter turned from where he'd landed, crouched on top of a nearby parked car, to see what had happened. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the Goblin's hover sled had crashed into the wall, skewering Norman on the two deadly-sharp blades protruding from the front.

"No." He breathed, stumbling down from the car and moving towards him. Norman's face had gone slack, his head rolling to one side. There was a trickle of blood coming from his parted lips, joining the rest of the mess smeared across his face. Peter glanced briefly at the place where the blades had entered him, but looked away again quickly, feeling sick. He couldn't be…

No. Peter could still save him. He had to try. He reached out, hands hovering uncertainly over the sled. Should he break the blades off? Un-web Norman from the wall? He felt like he was moving through a fog, his brain not working as fast as it should. If he pulled the blades out, would it hurt Norman more? Cause him to bleed out? He tried desperately to remember everything Aunt May had ever taught him about first aid. Should he be worrying about Norman going into shock? Probably.

Peter was vaguely aware of a beeping coming from somewhere nearby, but he couldn't worry about that right now. He decided to try removing the sled, because he couldn't do _nothing_. Then he could put pressure on the wounds until an ambulance got here. He moved to the side of the sled and ran his hands over it, searching for the best place to grip. He came around to the back so he could pull it straight out and was settling his hands on either side when a he felt the tingle at the back of his neck intensify. The beeping seemed faster, but Peter forced himself to focus.

Norman Osborn couldn't die.

He started to pull when the world suddenly turned on its side. He was thrown to the ground, hitting his head and shoulder hard, and a sudden burst of heat and light momentarily blinded him. His ears were ringing, blocking all other sound. Slowly, flickering light and distant screams filtered into his consciousness, senses coming back online. For a moment everything was deafening, like before he learned how to block out most of his super hearing. Then the scent of leather and gunpowder and something burning hit him all at once. There was a warm, heavy weight holding him down.

Peter gasped for breath, trying to focus his eyes so he could see what he was trapped under.

"Wade?" He choked out, squinting at the mass of red and black blurring his vision.

"What the fuck were you doing, Spidey?" Wade asked, voice tight with pain and something else. Fear.

Peter groaned incomprehensibly and pushed weakly at Wade's shoulder. He couldn't breathe. Wade rolled off him and slowly climbed to his feet, stumbling slightly before finding his balance and holding a hand out to Peter. Peter took it and allowed himself to be pulled upright, whimpering in pain as his shoulder took the brunt of his weight. Wade immediately let go, moving his grip to Peter's waist instead to help him stay upright. He felt dizzy.

"What…" He glanced at Wade and gasped. "Oh my god, your arm!" Wade's sleeve had been burned away, the limb underneath red and torn. As Peter watched, it shifted, scar tissue spreading slowly and painfully over the area, covering blood and raw muscle. The burns extended over Wade's shoulder and onto his back, disappearing from Peter's sight.

"Sorry." Wade grunted, shifting his injured arm away. "It'll be back to normal ugly in just a minute. Don't worry."

"But…" Peter glanced around helplessly, still trying to piece together what had happened. "I don't…" There had been an explosion of some sort. But where? How? His eyes found the spot on the wall where Norman had been webbed and pinned, and all of a sudden he was dizzy again, the world tipping on its axis.

Wade held him up. "I know. Come on." He tried to turn Peter away, but Peter wrenched himself free of the mercenary's grip and stumbled forward, eyes fixed on the eviscerated mess of blood and brick and torn webbing in the spot where Norman had been just a minute before.

"No, I have to…" No. Norman couldn't be dead. He couldn't. Peter had to save him. He had to…

As he got closer, the smell of blood and – oh god, _burnt flesh_ became overwhelming. His gaze flickered over what might have been a piece of Norman's torso or leg, covered in melting green armor, and Peter felt like he was going to be sick.

"Nope. Come on, we gotta go, Baby Boy." Wade stepped in front of him, blocking his view and stopping him from moving any closer. "We need to get out of here. The police are coming."

Sure enough, Peter could hear sirens, loud and close by. But he couldn't just leave. He tried to step around Wade, only to find himself suddenly swept up in the man's arms. He didn't fight it as Wade carried him through the crowd, away from the sight of the explosion. He just clung to him and peering over one broad shoulder, eyes wide with shock.

Wade didn't speak again until they'd put a few blocks between them and Times Square. He didn't put Peter down, either; not until they'd ducked into an alley and were safely out of sight of anyone who might walk by. He leaned Peter up against a wall and carefully but firmly took hold of his arm, beginning to circle it gently to move his shoulder in its socket.

"That hurt?" He asked. Peter nodded. "Bad?" Peter shook his head.

"I think it's sprained." He found himself whispering.

Wade nodded in acceptance and ran gentle fingers over the back of Peter's head, prodding lightly through the mask. "Your head hurt?"

Between the Green Goblin's kick earlier and hitting the pavement when Wade knocked him down, yes. Peter's head hurt. But he didn't think he had a concussion and it would heal pretty quickly if he did, so he shook his head no. "How did you find me?" He asked, voice hoarse. He felt numb.

"You didn't text to say you got home okay." Wade let his hands lay lightly on Peter's biceps. "So I went out to look for you. Heard the commotion."

Peter nodded slightly, eyes skimming unthinkingly over Wade's bare arm. His skin seemed to be healed now, but still looked painful, covered all over in thick scars. Wade shifted in discomfort, fingers twitching on Peter's arm, and Peter dropped his gaze to the ground.

"Hey." Wade raised his other hand to curl gentle fingers under Peter's chin, tipping his head up so their gazes met. "It's over now. It's okay."

Somehow, the words didn't comfort Peter as much this time.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Title:  
To You I Bestow – Mundy  
Lyrics:  
Everything Will Be Alright – The Killers  
Your Love Is My Drug – Ke$ha

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	14. And I'm Not Here, This Isn't Happening

**Wade**

 **[White]**  
 **{Yellow}**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[You kissed Peter.]

{OH MY GOD SWEET TITTIES ON WHITE BREAD WE ALMOST FUCKED SPIDER-MAN!}

[You kissed Peter Parker and then turned around and lied to your boyfriend about it.]

{WE ALMOST FUCKED SPIDEY JESUS FUCKING CHRIST}

[Is that how you're going to make it work? By lying to your itsy spider boy-toy?]

{WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK WE FINGERED SPIDEY AND HE GAGGED ON OUR COCK AND OH MY _GOD_ I'm getting hard right now, aren't I?}

"Uh, guys? Could you knock that off? You're not even on topic here." He could deal with his guilt and crippling self-doubt later; there were more important things to worry about right now. Wade sat perched on the edge of his couch, hands clenched into fists on his knees as he watched the news banner running across the tv screen below live footage of the bomb squad working in Times Square. He'd let Spidey go home (albeit rather reluctantly) about an hour ago. There was a chance he hadn't seen the news coverage yet, but there was no doubt they'd keep running the story all day tomorrow, so Spidey was gonna see it all eventually.

{Yeah, but the readers want to know our reactions to stuff like that! They're kind of obsessed with us, you know.}

[I just think it bears repeating: you're doing a shit job in this 'relationship,' if that's what it is. I'm pretty sure kissing other cute boys and hiding it goes against relationship rules.]

Wade gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the boxes, trying to focus his attention on the more immediate problem. As he watched, CNN flashed a content warning for graphic images before replaying the cell phone footage of Spider-Man slamming the Green Goblin into a wall, punching him several times, and tearing off his mask. The frame froze on the blurry, bloody face that was revealed, and it was recognizable even through the bad video quality.

"And there you have it." The news caster's voice echoed hollowly through Wade's apartment. "New York's own billionaire CEO Norman Osborn has been unmasked as the Green Goblin, a villain who has terrorized the city three times over the last month." The shot cut to news footage of the Green Goblin flying over the Brooklyn Bridge, dropping pumpkin bombs on the stopped cars below. "We still don't know when, how, or why Mr. Osborn took on the identity of Green Goblin. Nor do we know why New York's masked vigilante Spider-Man, who has never killed before according to record, decided to take his life earlier tonight."

More cell-phone footage flashed across the screen. He watched with narrowed eyes as Spider-Man leapt away from the webbed-down goblin, flipping out of the frame right before the hover sled flashed across the screen and skewered Norman Osborn on two long, thin blades. He seized once, then went still, face slack and eyes blank. "Now we see Spider-Man coming back to the scene." The anchor's voice narrated over the video as the red and blue-clad hero stumbled into the shot and moved to Norman's side. "It seems as though he is trying to make sure that Norman Osborn is dead." Wade growled under his breath, skin crawling with uncomfortable anticipation as he watched Spidey start to move around the hover board, looking for a way to pull it out. "We can see him pressing something on the side of the Goblin's glider, ostensibly setting the bomb just before…" The voice trailed off, waiting for the fireworks to start on screen.

Wade flinched as he watched himself, a blur of red and black, tackle Spider-Man out of the way right before the entire screen erupted in pixilated orange and yellow. Screams could be heard in the background, and whoever was holding the cellphone seemed to drop it. The image went black before cutting back to a well-groomed lady sitting behind a giant desk in a tasteful suit jacket. "Fucking idiots." He grumbled, not listening to the bullshit she was spewing even though he really liked her choice in lipstick shade (Ravish Me Red by Revlon).

{Yeah, like why would Spidey, _our_ Spidey, wanna blow up a dead baddie? Clearly he was already un-alived before that pretty little explosion.}

[Not the point. Didn't anyone notice the flashing red light on the back of the sled? It started before Spider-Man even touched the thing. Not to mention the beeping. Though I guess that couldn't be heard on the film by Mr. I-still-own-a-flip-phone-in-2017.]

"People are so fucking stupid, I swear." Wade threw his remote half-heartedly at the tv. "Doesn't anyone know Spider-Man _at all_? He doesn't kill people. Ever. That's like his MO."

[Except this time he did.]

Wade gritted his teeth. "No. He didn't. The Goblin did that to himself."

[You think Spidey will see it that way?]

Wade whipped a knife out of his belt and stabbed it into the couch cushion beside him, wrenching a long, jagged gash into the upholstery. "I'm gonna fucking kill every single reporter that calls Spidey a murderer."

{Oooooh, yes! Finally some real fun! Oh, it's been weeks, Wade, weeks… We're really overdue for a good killing spree. Mm, I can already smell the sweet scent of blood spurting from arterial wounds!}

[Oh yeah, that's a fantastic idea. That won't make Spider-Man look bad at all. The media is talking shit about him? Oh, no problem. His insane mercenary boyfriend will just murder them all. If they even figure out it's you, that is. They seem to be idiots, so it's more likely that they'll just think Spidey did the dirty work himself. Congrats, Wade! You've managed to turn the world's purest hero into a hated murderer all by yourself!]

{Wow. You really do fuck up everything you touch, don't you?}

"Shut. Up." Wade pushed himself up off the couch and paced towards the kitchen, leaving his trench knife stuck in the cushion. He searched for a distraction. Food, beer, _something_ to keep himself busy since Spidey had gone home to his daytime life and there was nothing Wade could do about it until tomorrow night. If he could do anything at all.

His fridge was empty. The cabinets, too.

[You should really make a trip to the grocery sometime.] White suggested, his tone misleadingly light.

{Nah… Wade doesn't like to do that.}

[Why is that again? Oh yeah. Because wearing his suit and mask freaks people out.]

{And showing his disfigured skin makes people sick!}

Wade braced his hands on the countertop, leaning heavily against it as he squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall forward. "And no one should have to be subjected to that shit at the fucking _grocery store_." He whispered to himself.

[That's right.]

{No one wants to look at your disgusting face while they're buying _food_.}

[I bet Spidey wouldn't either. He'd be repulsed if he saw your face.]

Wade shook his head, choking back a whimper. "He's seen my skin… He doesn't care." He protested, though his voice was weak, his tone flat. He knew it was a different story to see it on his face. To see the extent of the damage, the corruption and ruin done to the one part of him that was supposed to look human.

[Even if he meant that, it won't be true. Even if he had his cock buried in your ass, if you took off the mask there's no way he wouldn't puke all over you.]

{And that is _not_ one of our many kinks…}

[No one could ever stand to look at your ugly, miserable face and still want you. No one.]

Wade took a shallow, shuddering breath. "Peter did."

[What was that?]

He took another breath, forcing himself to raise his voice above a small, broken mumble. "Peter did. He saw my face but he… He kissed me anyway."

[I'm sorry. Are you using the _child_ that you cheated on your boyfriend with to make your point?]

{Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe Petey-Pie is the one we should be shacking up with! He was always such a sweet little thing. Those Bambi eyes, that ass…}

[Well, it's too late now either way. You think Peter is ever going to want to talk to you again? After you shut him down like that?]

"We had to." Wade explained hoarsely. "He's too… We could never. Too good. We'd fucking _ruin_ him."

{Yeah, but did you have to be so mean about it? You left so fast we didn't even get to find out what freaked his fluffy little bunny tail in the first place.}

[Yesss… That's right. Parker was scared of something.]

{He came to _you_ for help.}

[Do you think someone hurt him?]

"No. No no no no no…" Wade stood up straight and pressed his fists to the eye patches of his mask. "He said no."

{Maybe he was getting some unwanted attention. Like that time we had to rescue him from that bar? Man, those wolves wanted to snatch him right up like the tasty little morsel he is.}

[Do you think he was raped?]

Wade put a fist through a cabinet door, his chest heaving as the wood splintered around his knuckles. "Shut. The fuck. Up."

{Maybe he was in trouble, and you left him there.}

[Maybe he got hurt after you left him. Because you didn't help him.]

{Maybe it's your fault.}

Wade stomped out of the kitchen, ignoring his burning throat as he grabbed Bea and Arthur from the floor and slung them onto his back. He had wrenched the door open and was tearing down the hallway in less than three seconds, paying no mind to the sound of nighttime news still blaring from his apartment.

{Wait, where the shit titties are we going?}

"To check on Peter." Wade growled, taking the stairs three at a time.

[Oh good. Sounds like a great idea.] The flat sarcasm oversaturated White's words.

{Aw… I'm disappointed. Been a while since we played Russian Roulette with a full chamber.}

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Stalking isn't cool, kids.]

{Sure it is! Totally cool! Like smoking cigarettes and getting piercings in weird places.}

"It's fucking hard during the daytime." Wade complained as he leapt across yet another alley and jumped off the railing of a fire escape to hook his fingers over the edge of his next rooftop. He grunted as he hauled himself up and over, rolling through the landing so he could leap to his feet and keep running. At least his parkour skills were getting a brush up.

[Maybe someone shouldn't have worn their supervillain costume out during morning rush hour.]

{Hey, we're not a supervillain! We're a lovable antihero. Just take a look at our comics.}

"We didn't have time to change." Wade reminded them as he ran close to the edge, peering down onto the crowded sidewalk to catch a glimpse of that beautiful brown hair. He couldn't lose him. Not since Peter had taken the wrong subway and it was clear that he was _not_ going to school this morning. That gorgeous head took a left turn at the next intersection and Wade pulled out his grappling gun, hoping that no one in the sea of taxicabs would look up as he swung over the bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Yes, he was stalking Peter Parker. Yes, he knew it wasn't really a moral thing to do. But if you added up all the bad things Wade Wilson had ever done, stalking a sixteen-year-old boy couldn't even be called the tip of the iceberg. So, you know, don't worry about it.

He'd camped out on the roof across from Peter's bedroom window last night. Yeah, again, Wade was aware that that was totally creepy and wrong and blah blah blah whatever, but he had to check if the kid was alright.

Peter had been sitting on his bed. Not sleeping, like most normal kids would be by four o'clock in the morning on a school night. He'd just been sitting there, in his adorable pajama pants and Calvin and Hobbes t-shirt, staring at the wall for far too long. It had been dark in his room, but Wade hadn't had much trouble seeing Peter's wide my-mother-just-got-killed-by-a-hunter-and-now-I'm-drowning-in-chocolate-tears eyes through his handy-dandy binoculars.

{See! We're always prepared for a little light stalking. Winky face.}

[To be fair, we _used to_ take mercenary jobs that required quite a bit of surveillance work, so the equipment was already at our disposal. And also, please never say winky face again.]

{Winky face. Poop emoji. Eggplant emoji.]

[No.]

Peter finally lay down on his bed almost an hour later, but Wade wasn't sure if he actually slept. He had no idea why the kid was up in the middle of the night, looking shell-shocked as fuck, but it put Wade on edge. Whatever had happened was bad. Really bad. And it must have been whatever had rattled him the previous afternoon, because this couldn't be about Wade. No way. Sure, _maybe_ Peter had developed a tiny little crush on the older guy he'd met at a nursing home because he'd saved him from that scary bar in Queens or something, but it didn't mean anything. _Wade_ didn't mean anything to him.

So he stayed there for what was left of the night, watching Peter's room through his stalker-oculars and trying not to listen to all of the gruesome scenarios White and Yellow thought up to explain the strange behavior. A little before seven in the morning, May Parker came in through the bedroom door. She and Peter shared a long, tight hug before disappearing into the rest of the apartment. It made Wade's fingers tingle with discomfort, because it wasn't a normal good-morning-sunshine hug, if there was such a thing. It was a hug meant to comfort.

What had happened to make Peter and May need comfort?

And that's how Wade ended up following Peter across town at eight in the morning. He needed to figure out what had happened. Where he had failed to protect the one completely innocent thing in his twisted nightmare of a life.

{Maybe it's the drugs.}

"You think Peter is doing _drugs_?" Wade flipped off the edge of one roof to land on another ten feet below. "You're even crazier than that cuckoo bird with the coco puffs."

{It's always the drugs. You'll see.}

[Um… guys? I think we figured out where your little side pet is going.]

Wade slid to a stop on his current roof and peered around the edge of a billboard into the street below. Peter was heading straight for an extremely fancy apartment building; the kind where each resident has their own floor. The building looked vaguely familiar, and after a moment Wade remembered why that was. He hissed in anger.

It was Norman Osborn's apartment building. He'd scoped it out when he found out that shit stain was behind the new and improved Weapon X program. His only regret was not sneaking in and slaughtering the bastard in his bed; it would have saved Spidey a lot of trouble, not to mention Wade was pretty disappointed that he hadn't been able to make Evil Scientist Osborn suffer before he breathed his last breath (though stabbed by his own fucking hover thingamajig was a good way to go).

[He ran right back to his pretty boyfriend, didn't he?]

Wade's hands clenched into fists as he watched Peter slide inside the glass-paneled lobby on the first floor and proceed towards the elevators with nothing more than a polite nod towards the security desk.

{He must come here a lot.}

[See, he wasn't losing sleep over you! He was crying over his boyfriend's daddy.]

{And his boss!} Yellow added helpfully.

Wade grunted in dissatisfaction and paced across the roof for a better position. If he could just get the angle right, he'd have a direct view into the Osborn's penthouse… And… Yep, there it was. A lavish living room, kitchen full of stainless steel appliances, and one window over a spacious bedroom trimmed in greys.

{Oooh, fifty shades?}

"You wish." Wade pulled out his binoculars, realizing with only a bit of chagrin that this was the most he'd used them all month. He couldn't see anyone at the moment, but this had to be where Peter was headed. It made his stomach churn.

{Why would Peter kiss us if he has a rich, attractive, successful boyfriend already? Was he trying to use us for something? Because damn, I would totally not care as long as it got us a piece of that luscious teenage ass.}

[Again. Not that I care, but have you forgotten Spider-Man?]

{No fucking way! Gosh. But there's nothing wrong with wanting two people at the same time. The Mormons do it!}

[Right. And they're the epitome of acceptable behavior.]

"I'm getting sick of your sarcasm." Wade snapped. As much as he didn't want to be defending _Mormons_ for fucks sake, he couldn't handle the never-ending criticism. He got it. He knew this was fucked up. He was fucked up. Being constantly reminded of that wasn't going to change anything.

[Hm. Looks like somebody struck a nerve.]

Wade ignored him, focusing his attention through the binoculars as someone moved through the kitchen and into the living room, where the elevator was located. Wade felt himself tense as he recognized Harry Osborn. His face was pale, his usually impeccable hair a bit of a mess, his eyes red. He was wearing pajamas. "Can't even get dressed on a school day morning…" Wade muttered venomously.

{Dude. His dad just died.}

"Yeah, his psycho, experimenting on humans and trying to kill Spider-Man dad. If anyone deserved to get stabbed and blown up, it was him."

{True dat. I was just kidding with the whole sympathy thing.}

[Wow. You're so funny.]

"Would you shut it?" Wade hissed, muscles trembling with anxious tension as he watched the elevator doors slide open. Peter stepped out. He had dark circles under his sorrowful eyes, and he was biting down on his lower lip in that adorable, nervous way that Wade loved so much. In the next moment, he had thrown his arms around Harry's shoulders and was holding him close, letting the older boy bury his face in that slender, beautiful neck.

Wade felt sick.

They stood there for a long time. Way longer than a casual hug between friends would last. At some point, Peter started stroking Harry's hair, and Wade felt like his blood was boiling.

{Let's kill him.} Yellow suggested, tone flat with anger. {Come on, it would be easy! You wouldn't even need a rifle from this distance. Just use Betty.}

[Great idea. I'm sure Peter wouldn't be at all traumatized by having his boyfriend's brain matter sprayed all over him.]

"Shut the fuck up." Wade couldn't stop staring. Even as he shook with barely repressed rage, pain and frustration, he had to keep watching. It was like a car crash, or a really good torture scene; he couldn't look away.

Eventually they broke apart. Peter held on to Harry's hand, though, and Wade held his breath as the two of them disappeared past the kitchen, only to reappear after a few moments in Harry's bedroom.

In Harry's fucking bedroom.

The Osborn heir (well, CEO now, as soon as the board voted him in) immediately crawled into bed and curled up on his side, a pathetic ball under a downy grey comforter. Peter sat down on the edge of the bed and continued to pet Harry's dark hair off his forehead in slow, comforting strokes. The bitter taste in Wade's mouth only intensified, coupled unpleasantly with this deep, aching emptiness stabbing through his stomach.

Occasionally, Harry's shoulders would shake gently beneath the covers, but mostly he was still. After a few minutes, Peter got up. He walked to the wall of windows. He closed the drapes.

[Well. I guess Peter thought of a better way to comfort his boyfriend.]

Peter stayed there all day.

Wade stayed there too, contemplating the pros and cons of tasting the sweet metal barrel of his Beretta M9.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Are we going to talk about Oscorp?]

Wade grunted as jumped, caught the bottom of the iron ladder, and began to ascend the side of the building. He was not in the mood to deign White with a verbal reply.

{You spent the entire day outside the Osborns' personal penthouse and you didn't even kill the evil offspring!}

"Peter was there." He didn't bother to point out that he wasn't even sure how guilty Harry was. The kid worked closely with his father at the office, Wade knew that much. It was likely that he knew some of what was going on there, and that was enough for Wade to pass judgment on him. But none of that mattered when killing the little shit would hurt Peter Parker, one of only two people in the whole world that Wade couldn't stand to harm.

[You hurt them both, anyway. You're very good at that.]

"I know." Wade paused to rub wearily at his eyes through the mask, wishing he could take the damn thing off. As much as he loathed exposing himself, even in the privacy of his own home, the leather and spandex got really uncomfortable after wearing it for hours on end. And fuck was he tired. Not that he needed much sleep, or could get much even if he tried, but it had been a long time. Even for him.

[But seriously. What are you going to do about Oscorp?]

{Yeah, are we finally gonna blow up the building? Because I really wanna try out those new detonators Weasel bought off the Russians.}

Wade didn't answer. He was too busy imagining all the hot, beautiful, sickening sex Peter and Harry could have had during the six hours and twelve minutes they stayed in Harry's room with the curtains closed. The boxes had been happy to help him come up with scenarios until now.

[Earth to fucking Wade. Why are you such a distractible idiot? We need a plan.]

"Hate plans." He muttered as he climbed.

{Yeah, plans suck Kanye West's balls!}

[Jesus Christ, you're both useless.]

It didn't take too long for Wade to reach the roof of the Hilton Hotel. When he climbed over the side, he immediately spotted Spidey sitting on the opposite edge, shoulders slumped and feet dangling over the open air. He approached slowly, knowing the hero probably wasn't in the mood for any obnoxious singing or inappropriate jokes. To be honest, Wade wasn't much in the mood for those things either. He expected some indication that Spidey knew he was there, but he didn't move an inch as Wade crossed the rooftop. That wasn't a good sign, since he was sure the boy's 'spidey sense' or super hearing would have alerted him to Wade's presence.

When he got close enough, he could see a newspaper held in Spidey's lap. It was the Daily Planet, and the front page showed a blurry photo of Spider-Man webbing the unmasked Green Goblin to the wall. The headline read ' **Spider Vigilante kills Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp**.' Wade hissed under his breath as he dropped down to sit beside Spidey.

"Don't read that shit." He commanded, reaching out to tear the paper from red gloved hands. Spidey let it go easily, fingers slack as Wade tossed the idiotic publication into the street below. The pages separated and blew apart on the way down, raining bullshit over the city.

{Have we talked about how much I really wanna kill J. Jonah Jameson? Because I do. I wanna tear his throat out with a nail file.}

Spidey just shrugged weakly. "It's true." He muttered.

Wade turned to stare at him, incredulity clear even through his Deadpool mask. "It's not, and you know it. The green bastard did that himself. He tried to stab you to death, then blow you up! Come one, Spidey. That's not on you."

"I webbed him there." The hero's voice was full of guilt and self-loathing, and a flash of fear made Wade's chest feel tight for a moment. Spidey couldn't really believe that, could he?

Wade took his face gently but firmly between his hands and turned him so they made what passed for eye contact through the masks. "Stop that." He ordered, voice hard. A small tremble ran through Spidey's body. "This is _not_ your fault, okay? You didn't make Norman Osborn turn into a supervillain."

[Nope. You did that! By failing to destroy all the data from your alma mater.]

Wade swallowed. "You didn't make him go after you like a crazed bloodhound. And you definitely didn't make him try to kill you. He did that." He jostled Spidey's head once, lightly. "Got it?"

He could hear Spidey's breath hitch on the inhale. "I guess."

Wade sighed, letting his hands trail down over a slender jaw and neck, settling on two slim but muscled shoulders. "How's your rotator cuff?" He asked more softly, running his fingers lightly over the injured arm.

"Fine." Spidey was looking down at the street again.

"Is it really?" Wade asked, because he probably shouldn't be swinging around on webs if he didn't have full use of his shoulder.

"Mhm."

Wade stared for a few more moments, trying his best to see through the inscrutable webbed mask to the expression underneath. Was he really… sad? About Norman Osborn? The Green Goblin? His death should be a relief, not a source of regret (unless what you regret is not being able to kill him in a slower and more painful way).

"Baby boy?" Spider-Man's diffuse attention snapped onto Wade in an instant, and Wade resisted the small shudder of arousal beneath his abs. "I know you, uh, have that whole 'no un-aliving' hero policy thing going on, and so even though it's _totally_ not your fault the Goblin died, I get it if you _mistakenly_ feel guilty or something. But, um…" He looked searchingly into Spidey's blank white eye patches. "You're not actually upset that he's dead, right?"

Spidey went rigid beneath Wade's touch, and the sudden wave of agitation he sent out made Wade's fingers itch with the need to hold a weapon of some kind. "Of course I am." He spoke through gritted teeth, the words clipped with tension.

{Uh… I'm not the only one who's confused, right?}

[You're always confused.]

But Yellow was right. Wade was perplexed; _why_ would Spidey be upset by this? He no longer had to fear for himself or his family. His whole life could go back to normal now. Or, what passed for normal in Spider-Man's life, at least. That had to be a good thing, right? "But Spidey… He deserved it." Wade stated simply.

Spider-Man tore himself away and was on his feet in less than a second, his chest suddenly heaving as he glared down at Wade. "No." He argued, and although Wade could tell he was struggling not to yell, he wasn't having much success. "He fucking didn't. _No one_ deserves to die, Wade. No one."

{Oh, fuck no. He did not just say that.}

Anger sparked hot and bitter on Wade's tongue. "You're not stupid enough to seriously believe that."

"Yeah, apparently I am!" Spidey spat back, throwing his arms in the air as he turned to pace away.

Wade leapt to his feet. "You can't argue with me that rapists and human traffickers, pedophiles and the Hitlers of the world don't deserve an early meeting with Lady Death, for everybody's sake."

"I could." Spidey whirled back around, practically radiating fury. "But that's irrelevant. Norman Osborn wasn't any of those things."

Wade glowered. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

{Is he fucking kidding? That sack of shit was most definitely evil. As evil as they fucking come.}

Spidey was shaking his head. "He did bad things, sure. He was… disturbed. But he wasn't irredeemable. He hadn't passed the point of no return."

Wade couldn't believe what he was hearing.

[To be fair…] White spoke up reluctantly. [He doesn't know about the human experimentation.]

{Oh, yeah. He doesn't, does he? Why haven't we told him about that?}

"Didn't want to add to his worries." Wade muttered distractedly. Maybe if he told Spidey the full extent of Norman's indiscretions, the hero wouldn't feel so bad about his death. "Look. Spidey, baby." He carefully reached out to take one trembling hand, pulling the tense little body a bit closer to him. "You don't have to feel so bad, okay? There were, um, some things I didn't tell you, because I didn't know they were related to the Green Goblin."

[Yeah, and how you missed that I have no idea. It was so obvious. Didn't you hear what Weasel said the green serum did?]

{Hey, now. You missed it too, Mr. I Know Everything.}

Spidey was looking at him a bit warily, but at least his trembling had died down, and he allowed Wade to pull him back to sit on the edge of the roof again. "What kind of things?" He asked.

"Well, um…" Right. How much should he tell, exactly?

[Oh, I think Spider-Man would _love_ to hear about how you slaughtered all those scientists, strangled them with their own intestines and slit the proffered throats of those pitiful science experiments. How you painted the Oscorp labs red.]

{You think he would? But he was just talking about how people didn't deserve to die…}

[Seriously, how are you this dense?]

Wade shook his head a little, silently urging the boxes to shut the fuck up so he could think. He'd tell Spidey everything he knew about Osborn, he'd just leave out the slicing and dicing bits. "Right, so… I kind of investigated Oscorp a while ago. I heard they were doing some not so great things with, um, old Weapon X stuff. Which I thought I had wiped off the face of the earth, but apparently not."

[Idiot.]

" _You're_ the idiot. Anyway. I took a peak at Oscorp's secret little science experiments, and turns out they were picking up right where my dear old creators left off." Wade tried not to let his tone turn flat and bitter, but it was a losing battle. "Had a whole host of unwilling prisoners. Torture chambers. Evil science experiments. The whole shebang."

"Oh my god." Spidey sounded shocked.

[I don't know why he would be, knowing what Norman Osborn tried to do to him.]

{Our sweet little spider baby is too forgiving!}

[Yeah. Look how he is with you, Wade.]

"But, why? What were they trying to do?"

The question pulled Wade from his thoughts, and he responded automatically, voice bleeding with scathing disgust. "Does it fucking matter?"

Spidey flinched back slightly, his hand twitching in Wade's gentle grip. "I mean… No. Not really. I just… Wanted to know."

Wade sighed, deflating a little in the face of his lover's hesitancy. "Sorry, Baby Boy. I'm just, uh… A little sensitive when it comes to human experimentation."

"I know." Spidey's voice softened, and he raised his free hand to cup Wade's jaw against his palm, fingertips curling over one rough cheekbone. "I'm sorry."

Wade leaned into the touch, chest aching with relief he hadn't know he'd been seeking. "S'okay." He mumbled, taking a moment before straightening up again. "They were, uh, trying to make some sort of serum. Like a drug that gives you superpowers, but not permanently." He watched Spidey's head tip sideways in interest, and he quickly shot down any questions the curious spider might have been tempted to ask. "I don't know any more details than that, really. No idea how the shit worked, but I guess it did. That's what Osborn was taking, to make him so strong and fast and whatever the fuck else he was."

"Deranged." Peter supplied, understanding blooming through his words. "That's why… That's why he was so, you know, unhinged. The serum must have been affecting his mind somehow."

Wade frowned. "How do you know he wasn't always like that? It takes a pretty fucked up mind to want to use human beings as lab rats."

{Yeah. Like fucking pansy ass dickface ball-sucking Francis.}

"From what I know, Norman Osborn was always a very tightly controlled man. He was extremely intelligent and strategic; he had to be to build the second biggest tech company in the world. But the Green Goblin was… Completely out of control." He looked out over the city. "Maybe Norman did always have the capacity for evil in him. But I think taking whatever drug he cooked up made it a whole lot worse."

Wade shrugged half-heartedly. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he was just a batshit murdering psycho." He squeezed the hand he still held, dwarfed inside his own. "It doesn't matter. Either way, he was way over the line. Past redemption. Bad to the bone. All that good shit. So you don't gotta feel bad about him dying, okay Spidey-Babe? No one's gonna miss the bastard."

Spidey shook his head, shifting away from Wade to pull his knees into his chest and wrap his arms around his legs, curling into a ball. The position was an unusually vulnerable one to see Spider-Man in, and it made that terrible fear and worry stir in Wade's stomach again. "He had a son." The hero said, words muffled against his knees where he hid his face. "Someone will miss him."

{Jesus Christ with a hacky sack now _Spidey's_ worried about Harry Osborn? God I fucking hate that stupid Burberry model kid and his stupid pretty face and his stupid perfect hair and nice body.}

[I'm confused, Yellow. Do you want to kill the Osborn kid or fuck him?]

Yellow paused to consider, and Wade had to choke back a growl. {Kill. Definitely kill.}

Wade placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Spidey's lower back. "I'm sure even his son is better off without him. A person like that doesn't deserve to breath the same air as someone like you, Spidey."

That spider mask whipped up to face Wade. "How can you say that?" His words were distraught.

Wade stiffened in surprise. Why was he angry? Wade had been trying to _comfort_ him.

[And clearly, you suck at it.]

{You just make everything worse.}

"Um…" Wade wasn't sure how to answer. "Well, see, my mouth just kind of opens and then my tongue is moving and words, they just sort of come out like –"

"Stop it!" Spidey snapped, his body radiating tension once again as he moved away from the mercenary's touch, and the knot forming in Wade's stomach tightened painfully. "You don't have to be such a dick about it."

[Wow. You can't even comfort your so-called boyfriend without making him hate you.]

{Fucking hell Wade, why did you have to fuck this up too?}

Wade licked his lips nervously, hating the panicky, anxious feeling that was starting to make it a little harder to breath. "I'm… Sorry?" He didn't know where he'd gone wrong, what he was apologizing for. He'd been sure that Spidey would feel better if he knew what that Norman's death was no loss for the world, but it just seemed to have made everything worse.

[You always make everything worse.]

{You're fucked up.}

[A failure.]

{Wrong.}

[Broken.]

{Fucked in the head.}

[That's why you can't help Spidey. You can't even understand his pain.]

{You're a fucking _psychopath_.}

[Death isn't a Bad Thing to you.]

{It's a Good Thing.}

[It turns you on.]

{You sick bastard.}

[You disgust Spidey.]

{Scare him.}

[He hates you.]

Wade found himself hunched over, his breath coming in short, labored huffs as he clutched at the sides of his head, the clamoring inside his mind drowning everything else out. But then there were hands laid gently over his, fingers trailing down his shoulders, gripping onto his arms. A sweet voice saying his name over and over, like crystal and rain water. Calling him back to the surface.

"Wade. Wade! Wade, it's okay. Wade."

He gasped, yanking himself back to reality as he straightened up and let his hands fall into his lap, heart pounding as he struggled for control. "Shit. Fuck, sorry." He grunted in frustration, fists hitting uselessly against his thighs. "God, why do I have to be so goddamn… Fuck."

"Sh…" Spidey grabbed hold of his hands and stubbornly worked his fingers apart until they could be held more comfortably. "You're fine, Wade. _I'm_ sorry. I'm being really unfair. I'm just… Upset. But I shouldn't take it out on you." He leaned forward, nuzzling into Wade's shoulder. "Are you okay?" He asked, and Wade imagined that he could feel the warmth of his breath through thin spandex and worn leather.

He turned his head slightly, calming down as he leaned over to press a soft kiss to the top of Spidey's head and take a deep breath of his clean, sweet scent. "Yeah. I'm fine, Baby Boy."

[And now he's the one comforting you. Pathetic.]

It was pathetic, wasn't it? Desperate to find _some_ way to make his boyfriend feel better so he wouldn't be a complete and utter failure (any more than he already was), Wade pulled one hand free from Spidey's to dig into a pouch on his belt.

"Nope, not that one." He muttered, feeling the heavy, comforting clink of loose bullets against his fingers. He tried one pouch over. "Bingo." He pulled out a heaping handful of crinkling wrapped candies and held them out Spidey. "Want a mint?" They were peppermints, all red and white (not spearmint because that shit sucks balls), the kind you might pick up on the way out of a nice-but-not-too-nice restaurant.

Spidey stared down at the offering, speechless for a moment, before he laughed softly. The sound was like music to Wade's ears.

{Even better than Sarah McLachlan. He has the laugh of a fucking angel… And the ass of a Greek god. Damn.}

[It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness.]

" _That's_ why you smell like peppermint." He chuckled, delicately taking one single mint from Wade's palm and holding it up in front of his face, like he was examining it. "And taste like it." He murmured, so quiet that Wade almost didn't hear him.

{Is it working? Are we making him feel better?}

"I… Think so." Wade whispered, watching Spidey's mask carefully. He didn't look at the mint for long, but curled his fingers around it, keeping it even if he wasn't eating it right now. Wade felt a hopeful smile twitching at his lips.

"Why do you have so many?" Spidey asked, the hint of curiosity faint but still present in his voice. "Do you eat them a lot?"

Wade shrugged, letting the rest of the mints spill carelessly from his open palm all over the roof between them. "I buy them in bulk." He admitted. "I'll suck on 'em if I have to stay still for a long time. Y'know, if I'm staking out a building or something."

[You mean a mark. No need to sugar-coat it; why don't you tell Spider-Man the truth? I'm sure he'd love to hear it right now.]

"Oh." Spidey let his mint fall down among the others, lost in the scattered sea between them. Wade deflated a little, but tried not to let his disappointment show.

{You freaked him out again. That's just great. Why can't you keep your big mouth shut for once?}

Before Wade could work himself up trying to think of a better way to improve Spidey's mood, the hero's head cocked to the side, his masked gaze going distant in a classic 'I hear something with my super-hearing' look.

"What is it?" Wade asked quickly, perking up as he went into ready mode, eyes already scanning the surrounding area for any potential danger even though he knew whatever Spidey was hearing must be too far away to see.

Spidey hummed in concentration. "Sounds like a… Jet. But quieter."

Wade narrowed his eyes at the horizon.

{Is it SHIELD? I fucking hate those cocksuckers.}

[Yes. SHIELD sent a jet plane after us in the middle of New York City. Of course not, you imbecile.]

"Worse." Wade muttered, jaw clenching as he caught sight of something small and red making its way towards them over the cityscape. Spidey climbed to his feet, clearly having seen the same thing, and Wade quickly followed.

Within a few seconds, Iron Man was swooping towards them, slowing down as he passed over their heads and straightened out, his hand and foot propulsors leveling with the ground and lowering him down with a loud whoosh of air. He hit the rooftop with a metallic bang, and Wade drew Betty from his hip. He couldn't help it.

"Wade." Spidey scolded quietly, one hand landing lightly on his forearm. Wade pouted, but he slid the gun back into its holster.

[How fucking whipped are you? I'm disgusted.]

He could draw and shoot in less than a quarter of a second, anyway, so it didn't really matter if he held the weapon or not. He just liked to look intimidating.

"Spider-Man." The giant robotic suit greeted Spidey, filtered voice almost eerily similar to the Green Goblin's distorted nightmare tone, but recognizably different as Tony Stark's world-famous amber tenor. A turn of that flat robot head gave the distinct impression that Stark was casting a disapproving look towards Wade. "Is this asshole bothering you?"

Wade gritted his teeth, but forced out an obnoxiously cheery tone as he raised his right hand to wave enthusiastically. "Hey Iron Balls, how's it hanging?"

{Balls… Hanging. Ha! I get it. That's funny.}

The hero beside him was not so upbeat. "No, Mr. Stark. He's not." Wade couldn't help the swell of affection he felt as he glanced sideways at Spidey's determined jawline and tensed shoulders.

{It's not like we'd _expect_ him to stand up for us to Tin for Brains. He's got to build his hero cred, y'know? Pretending not to know his morally ambiguous mercenary boyfriend is probably par for the course.}

"He's too nice for that." Wade murmured under his breath, still in awe of the kid's never-ending goodness.

"Fine. Well, I hate to interrupt this little rooftop party," Stark sounded like he would enjoy nothing more in the whole world. "But I need to speak to you." His face plate shot a pointed, if somewhat blank, look in Wade's direction. "Alone."

[Time for the heroes to talk, so you're obviously not welcome.]

{Because we kill people!} Yellow elaborated brightly.

Wade gave off an exaggerated eye roll. "Alright, alright. I get it. The hero club is now in session. I'll get out of your hair." He took a step backwards, towards the edge of the roof. "I'm busy anyway. Y'know, things to maim, people to kill. Just don't vote on naked Thursdays while I'm gone, because I have a PowerPoint presentation that's definitely gonna knock your socks off."

He was ready to go, leave them to it, really he was. But Spidey's hand found his forearm again, stopping him with nothing more than a gentle touch. "No. He stays."

Wade's gaze snapped towards the web slinger, jaw falling open in surprise. Righteous determination was etched in every line of Spidey's body, and if they hadn't had a witness, Wade might have fallen to his knees and asked to suck that amazing, incredible, glorious hero off right then and there.

{Hey, we don't mind an audience…}

"Stop messing around." Iron Man stepped forward menacingly, his tone annoyed even beneath the flat affect of mechanical production. "I said I need to _talk to you_."

Spidey's jaw only tightened, and Wade grinned shamelessly, knowing his spider stubbornness was flaring up. "And I said, he stays."

Iron Man stared at Spider-Man. Spider-Man stared at Iron Man. Wade watched the showdown with rapt attention, finding the situation entirely more gleeful than was appropriate. After a few tense, drawn out moments, Iron Man looked away with a choked sound of disgust.

Wade cheered. "Yeah! Suck on that, bitches! Deadpool gets to stay in the clubhouse!"

"Your charity case can stay." Stark conceded grudgingly. "But you better keep him on a tight leash." He raised one glowing hand, palm out towards Wade. "Or I won't hesitate to blast him into so many pieces, it'll take days for him to grow another body."

{Are we a charity case?}

[Obviously.]

"Ha!" Wade leaned forward on his toes, crowing obnoxiously. "Joke's on you! It only takes me a few hours to grow back from eviscerated little bits! This one time, I got blown up by a land mine 'cause I was trying to play soccer with it, and there were pieces of me scattered over a hundred yards but it still only took –"

"Pool." Spidey stopped him with a stern word, and Wade's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth on teeth.

"Sorry, Spidey. I'll be good." He mimed zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key.

Spidey crossed his arms over his chest, taking a step forward to put himself between Wade and the billion-dollar man. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

Stark let out a long sigh, his visor flipping up to reveal tired eyes and his douchebag goatee. "You weren't, uh, where you were supposed to be today, kid. I went looking for you."

Wade looked curiously at Spidey, but he just shrugged. "Yeah, I skipped school. Had some stuff to deal with."

Stark's disapproving dad frown was pretty good, even Wade had to admit. "You can't make that a habit. Routines need to be kept; if anyone –"

"Is that what you came here to talk about?" Spidey interrupted, clipped words a shocking departure from the usual respect and reverence that Wade was used to hearing in his voice when he talked about the great Mr. Stark.

There was a beat, then Stark's dark eyes narrowed. "No. You know what I came to talk about."

"So get on with it."

Another long-suffering sigh from the Iron Giant. "Why didn't you call me for help?"

Spidey went stiff beside him, and Wade's warning system immediately buzzed in the back of his head.

{Pooly Sense!}

[No.]

"I didn't have time." Spidey muttered.

"Bullshit. I told you to _call_ if you ever got in over your head. You shouldn't be handling those things on your own, kid, it's not –"

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold up." Wade stuck out one hand, palm out, and planted the other on his hip. "Are you implying that the amazing Spider-Man couldn't handle one little deranged supervillain? Because clearly, he handled it just fine."

{Well, he needed _you_ to save him from that ridiculously obvious bomb – seriously authors, you couldn't do any better than that?}

Wade turned his head to the side to hiss under his breath. "Well I was there, wasn't I?"

[Only because you hunted him down.] White reminded. [He didn't call you, either.]

"Deadpool." Spidey scolded, a harsh edge to his tone that had Wade's skin prickling with anxiety. He crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips together in a tight line, fighting the urge to keep arguing his point.

"Listen to your keeper, Wilson." Stark sneered. "The grown-ups are talking now."

Wade bristled at that, bitter acid flooding across his tongue. His name wasn't the best kept secret in town, but it wasn't exactly common knowledge, either. Of course Tony Stark would have the resources to access any and all files on Deadpool (and there were many, kept by a variety of top government and criminal organizations), but his use of Wade's given name was definitely a low blow among the masked community.

{Fucking shoot his face off. It's right there, wide open! We could totally put at least three rounds in his forehead before he'd have a chance to blink.}

Spidey literally stepped in before Wade could react, moving more solidly between he and Iron Dick. "I didn't even know if you were in town." He told Stark, continuing their conversation (if you could call it that). "And it was a… time sensitive situation."

Starks eyes flashed with annoyance. "I was. I would've come. And even if I hadn't been around, I could've sent someone, or at least one of the suits."

"He doesn't need your help, dickwad." Wade couldn't help but interject, his blood practically boiling with hatred for the entitled billionaire jerk-off. "He handled it."

"Not well." Stark snapped.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Wade crowded up against Spidey's back and his fingers twitched towards his hip holsters, the itch for violence crawling across his skin. He was a full head taller than the young hero, so he glared easily over him at Iron Man, lines of his body gone sharp and menacing.

"Deadpool." Spidey turned half-way to place a restraining hand on his chest, pushing him back several inches with no effort at all.

{Damn, that's hot.}

"Back down." Spidey commanded. "He's right."

Wade's gaze snapped to his face. "What the fuck? He's not. He's a fucking idiot." He glared at Iron Man again, anger burning hotter with the knowledge that he'd managed to convince _Spidey_ , perfect wonderful pure _Spidey_ , that he'd done something wrong here. "You're a fucking idiot. If you don't fly your fat metal ass back to your big phallic shaped man-palace right fucking now, I swear to all the gods I know I'll tear your fucking –"

"Wade." Spidey hissed sharply, curling his fingers around both katana straps and jostling him backwards. "Stop it." Wade went still, the words dying in his throat.

{Shit. Look what you did now. You embarrassed him in front of Iron Maiden!}

[Not like we could expect any different… Wade can't act like an adult to save his miserable life.]

"Look." Stark had a sneer on his face again, like he was looking at a particularly nasty insect. "As much as I enjoy being yelled at and threatened by an unhinged sociopath with the intelligence and maturity of a five-year-old, how about we continue our conversation without the loser?" He waved a dismissive hand in their direction. "Tell your pet to get lost."

Spidey made a sharp noise of displeasure and turned back to face Stark, hands curling into fists at his side. "He's not a sociopath, or stupid, or a loser." His tone left no room for negotiation, and his fierce defense of Wade caused a pleased sort of warmth to bloom in his stomach. "He's not my pet. And I said he stays. Deal with it."

{I wouldn't mind being Spidey's pet… Crawling around on our hands and knees and barking like a good dog. We could be ready to present whenever he's feeling frisky and all he'd have to do is pull out our dog-tail plug and sink right in. Mm…}

[You _would_ be into pet play, you sick fuck.]

{Isn't everyone? Oh my god. Can you imagine a little spidey-kitty? Oh my gooooood holy fuck he'd be the cutest damn thing since Puss 'n' Boots, NO, even cuter. Holy shit we need to get on Amazon and order cat ears right fucking now. Two day Prime delivery. Click!}

[We need to get you on Adderall.]

Iron Man looked incredulous. "I seriously don't get why you let him hang around. I was willing to let it slide when I thought you were just trying to be nice, get the big bad mercenary to reform and quit killing. But it looks like the opposite is happening, kid. You need to be careful."

Spidey crossed his arms over his chest and Wade could see his muscles quivering with tension. "Deadpool has nothing to do with my mistakes."

Wade stared between them, realization creeping through his mind like a virus.

{Are we rubbing off on Spidey? Making him not as good of a hero?}

[Of course we are. I warned you that would happen. Our crazy rubs off on everything we touch, contaminating everyone. Poisoning them.]

"Are you sure about that?" Stark was giving Spidey a hard, searching look. "All your problems seemed to start just after you met him. And I know he was there last night."

{That's true… Is it possible that we're responsible for all this shit?}

"Guilty by association is not a fair evaluation." Spidey ground out through a tight jaw.

Iron Man stared for another long, silent moment. "Fine." He turned one wrist towards his face to check some sort of read out on a small screen built into the suit. "We can talk more about that later. I hope you're not planning on patrolling tonight." His voice carried a casual warning, an implication of expected obedience.

Spidey shifted slightly on his feet. "Of course I am. Crime isn't going to stop just because I'm going through a crisis."

Stark glared in warning. "That's not a good idea, kid."

"I'm not a kid. I can make my own decisions." The anger was laced through Spidey's words now, and Wade's heartrate kicked up a notch, hyping up for a fight.

{You go, gurl.}

Stark stepped forward, closing the space between them. "You are a kid. And that suit is a privilege, not a right. If I need to take it back until you can learn how to be responsible, I will."

Wade could see Spidey trembling, retort on the tip of his tongue, but he interrupted before they could get into a real argument, pulling the attention to himself. "Back your ass the fuck up, Iron Giant. You're not taking anything from anybody." He didn't need to push Spidey out of the way; he just glowered at Stark, intentions clear as crystal by the threat in his words.

"I made the suit." Stark stated haughtily, as if that justified him acting like he owned everything in the whole goddamn world.

"Hip hip hurray, motherfucker. I made this suit but that don't mean shit. It wouldn't matter if ten underfed kids in Taiwan made it; it's mine because it's mine. Are you Spider-Man?" He left a moment of silence suspended in the air. "No. So it's not yours."

He could see Stark grinding his teeth together from feet away, the exasperation written clearly across his features. "You could argue that." He finally managed. "But it doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't be patrolling for a while." He refocused on Spidey, who seemed to have relaxed incrementally once the threat of having his suit taken away was no longer viable.

"People still need my help." He argued, always the hero.

"You've seen the news." Stark said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Whether it's true or not, you've seen what they're saying about you."

He watched Spidey's shoulders tense even more, misery and anxiety washing over him in almost palpable waves. "Fuck the news." Wade spat, unable to take the sight of his sweet little spider so burdened by those assholes' insignificant opinions.

{Yeah, fuck 'em! And slice 'em up. Spread them out in itty little bits and pieces across the studio walls, turn on the cameras… Damn, what a show that'd be.}

Iron Man continued on, ignoring his outburst. "The people won't trust you now."

"Fuck the people!"

Both heroes turned to look at Wade, and he could imagine Spidey's expression matching Stark's unobscured look of utter disbelief and disgust.

[Not the right thing to say, Wade. Your lack of self-control never ceases to amaze me.]

But he couldn't stop himself, spurred on by the awkward silence hanging in the air between them. "Who cares what anyone thinks? Spidey can do whatever the fuck he wants, because he's a hero. He does good, so people's stupid little opinions don't mean shit."

"Being a hero doesn't give me a free pass, Pool." Spidey disagreed gently.

Iron Man bowled over the younger hero's words, arguing much more viciously. "Public opinion matters. If you had an ounce of intelligence in that screwed up head of yours, you'd realize that a hero is much less effective when people don't trust him."

[That's true, moron.]

{You really are fucked up, aren't you? They'll never let you be a card-carrying member of the club at this rate.}

Wade's jaw clenched and unclenched, anger like a hot poker in the back of his throat. He deflected. "How come you assume all heroes are male, Iron Asshole?"

Stark threw up his hands in irritation. "Jesus, you're such a psycho I can't even talk to you!"

{Limit reached.} Yellow snapped.

Wade pushed Spidey out of the way and drew his highest caliber gun. He had it pointed at Tony Stark's face in less than a quarter of a second, just as promised. A full half second later, Iron Man's face plate snapped back into place and one glowing, revved up arc reactor palm was pointing straight at him.

"Go on." Iron Man's distorted mechanical voice taunted him ruthlessly. "I'm dying for you to try. I would _love_ an excuse to blast you out of existence and spare the world your miserable presence for a few hours."

Wade's trigger finger twitched with desire, but he held himself in check. There was no way he would risk a bullet ricocheting off that stupid impenetrable suit and hitting any part of his precious spider.

"Stop it, both of you." Spidey's voice cut through the tension between them, heavy with disappointment, and Wade's stomach sank like a rock. He lowered his gun.

[You just can't stop fucking up, can you? All you do is cause him trouble.]

Iron Man did not lower his hand. "Leave town, Deadpool." He ordered. "I don't know why you're still here, but it's been long enough. Move on. You've caused enough trouble."

Wade swallowed back a bitter taste, and for a moment, he wondered if Stark was right. Maybe he was just a burden to Spider-Man. Maybe he should step back, give him some space.

But then Spidey moved back between them, all of his beautiful righteous anger directed at Iron Man, _for_ Wade. "I think you should go, Mr. Stark." His voice was hard. "I'll take tonight off and think about what you said. Now please leave us alone." And just like that, Wade remembered why he would never leave unless Spidey sent him away. Because he was beautiful and strong and _perfect_ and for some reason he wanted Wade around. Wanted to _be_ with him, and Wade was far too selfish to ever walk away from that.

Iron Man stood frozen for a moment, then he lowered his arm. "Fine." Even through the voice filter, his tone was stiff and brisk. "I'll speak with you later." Not lingering any longer, he pointed his palms towards the ground and took off, his jet propulsion leaving little streaks of blue behind as he sped off towards the city lights.

"Bye, Anthony!" Wade waved after him. "Baby bye, bye, bye. Bye, bye!"

{Couldn't pass up a little *NSYNC, although I'd rate your enthusiasm at a four out of ten}

There was a moment of silence as the sound of Iron Man's flight faded into the distance. Wade watched Spidey, wary of his mood after that tumultuous rooftop meeting. "You okay?" He asked hesitantly.

Spidey sighed. "Yeah." He didn't sound all that okay, but the tension was draining from his small body as he stepped in close to Wade and let his forehead rest on his chest.

Wade gladly wrapped his arms around the hero's shoulders, holding him close as relief coursed through his veins. "Good." He murmured, feeling himself relaxing too as Tony I'm-a-Dick Stark moved farther and farther away from them. "Wanna patrol, then?" He asked after a minute of quiet embracing.

Spidey shook his head, keeping his face pressed against Wade's body. "No." He muttered. "Mr. Stark is right, even if he was a jerk about it."

Wade frowned. "He wasn't right, Spidey. The city needs you, whether they know it or not."

"Maybe so." He responded tiredly. "But I should probably let things settle down for at least a night or two, or I might cause more harm than good." He shifted to wind his arms around Wade's waist, pressing just a bit closer, and softness bloomed in Wade's chest until he was completely unwilling to argue with his sweet little spider.

"Okay." He acquiesced, siding one palm slowly down the line of Spidey's spine until his hand settled over his lower back, fingers caressing the gentle curve at the top of his perfect ass. Spidey hummed, a soft little sound pressed into the leather over Wade's chest, and tenderness so fierce and powerful that it made his throat close up seized Wade in a steely grip, stealing his breath away.

{Love.} Yellow sighed dreamily.

White made a nonverbal sound of disgruntled disgust.

Still in the grips of whatever strong emotion had him nearly close to tears, Wade tipped his head down to press his lips to the top of Spidey's head through their masks. Spidey made another quiet noise of contentment, breaking Wade's heart even more, and leaned back to meet him half-way. He detangled one hand to move their masks out of the way, gentle and unhurried, and the ache in Wade's chest intensified. When their mouths met, slow and comforting, the tenderness deepened into something more heated.

{Mm. We like this, yes we do.}

Wade parted Spidey's soft lips with his own, deepening their kiss with careful intensity. Spidey slid one hand up to curl around the back of the mercenary's neck, holding him close as their tongues met and moved together with warm, easy chemistry. Wade let his hand slide lower, cupping Spidey's ass and squeezing, little tendrils of arousal quickly spreading through his body.

Spidey pulled back a little with a small, precious gasp, breaking the depth of their kiss to peck gently at Wade's lips instead.

{Aw, no, keep going! Sex always makes people feel better, right? We can at least comfort Spidey this way.}

Spurred on by the desire to make his boyfriend's night a little better (and, let's be honest, by the desire to _get some_ ), Wade nipped sensually at Spidey's luscious bottom lip, sliding his other hand from his shoulder blade down to his hip, and pulled the hero closer as he pressed one heavily muscled thigh between his legs.

Spidey shuddered, his hand clenching around the back of Wade's neck, but he pulled back again, mouth open as quiet breaths rushed in and out. "Wade…" He murmured, a quiet warning. But the sight and sound of his name on those lips, wet and glistening, breathless, sent heat and need curling through Wade's stomach.

"Sh, Baby Boy." He murmured back, scraping his teeth across the curve of his jaw and trailing kisses down his beautiful neck. "I want you to feel good." He tightened his grip on that sharp hipbone, swiping his gloved thumb lower over the thin fabric of Spidey's suit, and pressed his quickly hardening length into the line of Spidey's thigh, muffling a quiet hum of appreciation in the juncture of his shoulder.

Spidey squirmed, a choked moan escaping his parted lips, but in the next moment he found Wade's shoulders with his hands and pushed him away, separating them. "Wade." He repeated, tone gentle but firm. "I don't, um… Mm." His tongue swept over his lips, an entirely too distracting motion. "I don't want to, right now."

Wade blinked at him, arousal draining from his body as quickly as the shock and shame rushed in. "Oh." Shit. Wade dropped his hands like Spidey had burned him. He backed up a step. Two steps, just to make sure. Fuck.

[Way to go, creep. Pushing yourself on him again, when he doesn't even want you.]

"Sorry, it's just…" Spidey wiped the back of one hand across his mouth. "I'm just… Tired. I feel…"

Wade shook his head quickly. "No, no. It's fine. Totally fine. No explanation needed. I'm sorry I… Yeah. Sorry." Bitter guilt and self-disgust gathered in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him.

"You don't need to be sorry." Spidey offered kindly.

[Yes, you do.]

Wade nodded distractedly, stomach churning at the realization of his carelessness. Of course he shouldn't assume that Spidey wanted him all the time.

{I suppose it would take a certain kind of mood to be able to get it up for you…}

"Right. Yeah. Well, uh…" Wade remembered that his mask was pushed up and hurried to yank it back down, covering his repulsive skin. "You should, probably, um, go home and get some sleep then."

Spidey nodded slowly, gazing down at the ground for a moment. "Yeah. That's probably a good idea." And he did sound tired. Exhausted, really. He took a small breath before stepping close to Wade again and leaning up to press a kiss over his masked cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." He murmured.

Wade nodded in silent agreement, keeping his hands safely at his sides until Spidey stepped away again.

Spider-Man hesitated at the edge of the roof, glancing over his shoulder at the frozen mercenary. "Goodnight, Wade."

"Night." He managed, raising one hand in a motionless wave, and watched Spidey swing away into the night.

The silence was deafening. But not for long. Never for long.

[Jesus you're disgusting. Can't help yourself, can you?]

{Spidey's always so fucking hot… It wouldn't be _such_ a big deal if we just went ahead and took what we wanted every once in a while. He's nice, I bet he wouldn't mind!}

Wade stared at the ground, willing himself not to puke. He didn't want to have to pull up his mask.

[Sure, Yellow. You always have the best ideas. Rape? Why not. Just add it to the list of relationship transgressions; you've already checked the box next to cheating!]

{You think Peter would still let us get inside his tight little jeans if we dropped by his place tonight?}

"Stop it." Wade choked out, turning to head for the fire escape. He needed to get home before the boxes got out of control.

{Oh, lighten up Wade. I'm just putting words to your desires! You know you want to, so you might as well just give in.}

[You might as well. Let go. Lose control again. Spin out.]

{Come on, it'll be fun!}

[Then you won't have to feel guilty every time the itsy spider whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Because he won't. Ever again.]

{You're gonna fuck it up eventually. Might as well do it the fun way!}

[Then you can leave town. Stark was right; all you do here is cause trouble.]

{It's what you're best at! Might as well embrace it.}

[Might as well let yourself be the monster you know you really are.]

{So come on… Let's head to Peter's, hm? See what he's up to. Get a taste of that luscious, sweet young ass… Tear him up, lick the blood from his abused hole… feel his delicate paper white neck caving in beneath our hands, see those gorgeous big brown eyes streaming with tears while we –}

Wade didn't wait until he got to one of his safe houses. He didn't take the chance. In an alley-way a block and a half away, beside a dumpster, he ate a bullet and blew out his cerebellum and occipital lobe.

When he woke up four minutes later, back of his head matted with blood and bits of bone and brain matter, he made sure to aim through the forehead to get that extra minute, minute and a half of blissful dark nothingness.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
How To Disappear Completely - Radiohead  
Lyrics:  
In the Arms of an Angel – Sarah McLachlan  
Bye Bye Bye - *NSYNC

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	15. You're a Beautiful and Violent Word

**Peter**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The sound of rapid gun fire rang out, assaulting Peter's sensitive ears and making his head spin as he flipped through the air and landed in a crouch on top of a stack of shipping containers, moving mostly on instinct. He stayed low, mentally scrambling to make sense of what was happening around him. Chaos had broken out so suddenly, with no discernable warning, and now he was left struggling not to get hit by any of the bullets flying through space. As far as he could tell, he wasn't even the one being shot at.

He and Wade had come down to the docks to check out a large-scale drug deal that the mercenary had heard about from one of his contacts in the criminal world. It was supposed to be a simple bust, using their tried and true method of distraction and capture (Wade did the distracting, Peter did the capturing). They'd just split up to come at the group making the trade from two different sides, but violence had broken out before Wade could start his distraction.

Peter peered over the edge of the shipping container he was perched on, forcing himself not to flinch at every low buzz of his spidey sense. He could see their original targets, six men dressed in clothes that were way too expensive for a stroll through the shipping yard, huddled together behind their black SUVs as they fended off gunfire from two sides. The other men, at least eight that Peter could see from his vantage point, had clearly ambushed the drug dealers in an attempt to steal the product and the cash. "Fuck." Peter cursed under his breath, wondering how neither he nor Wade had noticed the large group of party crashers sneaking up on them.

He was just beginning to strategize, trying to figure out the best place to start webbing people up to optimize the element of surprise, when a loud whoop of joy sounded out over the din.

"Whoooo-hooo! Yippy kai yay, motherfuckers!" Peter watched in disbelief as Deadpool somersaulted over one of the cars and recklessly engaged their original targets, swinging his fists and kicking out wildly. Apparently stealth was completely out the window now.

What little semblance of order there had been dissolved into chaos as the frightened men reacted to Deadpool, breaking form to engage him while still trying to hold off their first attackers. The panic in the air was almost palpable, making Peter's hair stand on end. He hissed in frustration and crawled down the side of the shipping containers, losing Wade from sight as he made his way towards the men shooting from across the yard. The quicker he got this tied up, the better.

He could still hear Wade yelling nonsense in the background as he began to pick the men off one by one, webbing their semi-automatics away before sticking each one to the unforgiving ground. He hoped the mercenary was behaving himself, and was fairly confident that he was at least refraining from unnecessary deaths since he hadn't drawn his katanas (which he was even more dangerous with in close quarters than his guns). Still, a subtle sense of foreboding was making Peter's actions rushed and sloppy as he dodged a few bullets from one of the last men standing and webbed his gun away with a short curse. He quickly stuck the struggling thug to the pavement beside his buddies and swung up onto the nearest stack of containers to get eyes on Wade.

"Hells yeah, Yellow. He would look fucking fine with his guts spilling out all over the place." Four of the six were on the ground, assumedly unconscious since there were no copious amounts of blood or obvious wounds. Wade was facing off against the last two, but it hardly looked like he was trying. He was… loose. Careless. "Hear that boys? Bobby Kennedy wants his hair back. Too soon? No? Well shit, no need to get snippy about it. White knows what I'm sayin'." The men turned to run, panic and desperation clear on their faces, but stumbled to a stop upon seeing Spider-Man ahead, blocking their path out.

Peter tensed, fingers hovering over his web shooters as the criminals held their guns up with shaking hands.

"Hey!" Wade yelled out from behind them, a sudden hard edge to his tone that snapped everything into sharp relief. "I'm not done with you fluffers." They both turned as if drawn by Wade's commanding voice, clearly sensing that the mercenary was a more dangerous threat on a base, instinctual level. "Yeah that's right." Peter watched with wide eyes as Wade took control of the situation, spreading his arms out to either side in the picture of relaxed confidence. "Hit me with your best shot!" Peter's breath caught in his throat, apprehension sinking into his stomach as Wade cheerfully sang out the line. "Fire away!"

Before he could move, the men were shooting. Wade staggered back as the bullets ripped through his chest and stomach.

"Deadpool!" Peter yelled, anger and panic making his voice tight as he hurried to web the men's guns away and tie the criminals down against the side of one of the cars. "What the fuck?" He leapt to the ground and darted to Wade's side.

"Wowie! That'll wake you up in the morning, won't it? Mhm, you're probably right." Wade poked analytically at one of the holes in his chest. "Fuckin' dry cleaners is out now."

Peter rushed to pull his hand away, not wanting him to aggravate the injuries more. "Are you okay?" He asked urgently, mouth going dry as he saw the excessive amount of blood wetting the front of Wade's suit.

Wade brushed him off. "Totally fine, sweet cheeks. You know me!" He turned away to open the trunk of the closest SUV and started rifling around inside. "Nothing can bring me down. Hey look! Cocaine!" He pulled out a brick-sized package of duct-taped plastic that appeared to contain, well, cocaine. Either that or powdered sugar, but Peter wasn't going to get his hopes up on that one.

Peter's mouth twisted into a frown, anger rapidly taking over fear as it became clear that Wade was going to be just fine. "Why the hell did you do that?"

Wade tore open the package and white powder exploded all over himself, the car, and the surrounding area. "Oh em gee it's snowing!"

Peter gritted his teeth in frustration, struggling to remain patient as he stepped out of the blast-zone to avoid getting any illicit drugs on his suit. "Pool." He snapped, trying to get Wade's attention. "That was completely unnecessary."

"Yeah but it was fun! Come on Spidey, snow angels!" Wade shook the last of the cocaine out onto the ground before tossing the empty bag aside and reaching into the trunk for another. Peter moved back in to catch Wade's wrist, stopping him before he could make more of a mess for the poor police to clean up when they finally got here. He held his breath, because he had no idea whether the fabric of his suit filtered out harmful compounds and he would rather not consume any drugs, even if his metabolism made it so he couldn't get high. He pulled Wade away and tried to ignore the unpleasant sight of blood soaking through the powered cocaine on his suit.

"No, Wade." He muttered, deeming them sufficiently out of earshot from the tied down dealers. "Why would you let yourself get shot like this? That was totally avoidable."

Wade shrugged, masked face turned away as he clearly looked around for something else to distract him. "Can't die. Why not?"

Peter swallowed a sigh, exasperated beyond words. He'd had this argument with Wade time and time again, and it was starting to feel pointless. Repetitive. Hopeless. Every time he told the mercenary that he didn't want him to get hurt, that he shouldn't have to feel so much pain just because he knew he would heal, Wade just shook it off with an infuriating air of indifference and continued to behave as recklessly as possible.

It had been two weeks since Norman Osborn died. Two weeks since… Since Peter killed him. He hadn't been able to stay off the streets of New York for more than a couple of days, knowing that people needed him, and Wade had accompanied him on patrol every night since then.

Things felt different now. Victims ran away before Peter could call the police, clearly frightened of him. Some criminals laid down their weapons and surrendered as soon as they saw him. While that made Spider-Man's job easier, it left Peter with a bitter taste in his mouth and a knot in his stomach. He didn't want people to be afraid of him. And Wade was different, too. He still worked well with Peter, joked around a lot, and he hadn't killed or seriously injured anyone. But he was… more scattered. Unpredictable. And more than anything else, reckless.

Two nights ago, he let a strung-out mugger slice his stomach open with a kitchen knife. Three days before that he jumped off a roof instead of using the fire escape and broke one of his legs. Last week he'd been shot, stabbed, and run over by a taxi. Every time it happened, Peter felt like his stomach might drop out of his body, but Wade didn't seem to care. And what baffled Peter the most was that he was doing it all on purpose. He _had_ to be. It would be so easy for Wade, for _Deadpool_ to avoid these stupid injuries; Peter had seen what he could do, and he knew the man was not trying. Not even a little bit.

"The cops are coming." Peter murmured dejectedly, letting go of Wade's wrist to turn and make his way out of the shipping yard.

Wade skipped after him, seeming completely unaffected by the hero's mood as he sang obnoxiously. "Bad boys, bad boys! Whatcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys, bad boys!"

Peter resisted the urge to rub at his tired eyes as he lead the way back to the grimy streets of the city, not wanting to transfer any cocaine from his hands to his mask. He hadn't been sleeping well, to say the least. His worry over Wade's behavior was only one of several concerns keeping him up at night. Harry was _not_ doing well, and the guilt over killing his father was eating Peter alive. No matter what Wade said, Peter knew that he was responsible for Norman's death, and it was difficult to wrap his head around taking a human life. He'd experienced death plenty, not just as Spider-Man, but as Peter too. His parents and Uncle Ben had taught him a lot about the subject. Being the one to _cause_ that was… Nearly incomprehensible. The public's opinion of him was only deteriorating as time passed, and he was constantly on edge waiting for Tony to show up unexpectedly and demand that he return his Spider-Man suit. And he missed Wade.

God, he missed Wade.

He hadn't seen Wade as Peter since the mercenary rejected him the day the Green Goblin died. Being around Deadpool, and only Deadpool, for two weeks made Peter ache to see his face again. To spend time with sweet, insecure, _kind_ Wade Wilson. Not that Wade wasn't those things when he was Deadpool, but he was… different. Just, different. He wanted Peter and Wade back. Because Spider-Man and Deadpool were something else.

But Wade didn't want Peter. He wanted Spider-Man, and Peter was doing everything he could to convince himself that that was alright. Wade deserved the hero, not the nerdy kid who screwed up everything he touched.

Wade had been chattering nonstop to himself (and the boxes) ever since they left the docks, so Peter wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying. It wasn't until the mercenary grabbed him by the hips, tugging him unexpectedly into a dark alcove beside a fire escape, that he realized Wade had been talking to him for a while.

"So whaddya say, Baby Boy. You wanna give these walls somethin' to talk about?" Peter's breath rushed out of his lungs in a huff as Wade pushed him up against the side of the building, his suit catching slightly on the edges of the bricks. "The shadows like to whisper, y'know." He leaned in close, voice lowering as his masked lips skimmed up the curve of Peter's jaw. "We could start some rumors…"

Peter took a slow, hitching breath, trying to ignore the heat that shot through his body when Wade loomed over him like this, caging him in. He tipped his head back, trying to get enough space to breathe a bit of Wade-free air. "Wade…" He warned, one hand rising to push half-heartedly at a broad, hard bicep. "You're covered in blood and fucking cocaine." He meant to be firm, but his voice betrayed him, coming out breathy and weak.

He could tell Wade was grinning as he raised one hand to finger the edge of Peter's mask, tugging at it teasingly as his other hand pressed the hero's hips more firmly into the wall. "Aw, come on Spidey… We both wear red for a reason." He slid one thigh forward, nudging Peter's legs apart and slotting into the space between, catching Peter's muffled gasp on his thumb as it swiped along the younger man's lower lip. "Yeah. Blends right in."

He bent forward, both of their masks having somehow gotten pulled up to expose their mouths, and Peter barely managed to tilt his head further back, swallowing a whine and avoiding Wade's lips as they landed on the slope of his neck instead. "My suit is… Um, supposed to be p-patriotic." Peter mumbled distractedly, fingers curling subconsciously around Wade's arm to hold him there instead of push him away.

"Is that so, little spider?" Wade's voice was a rough hum, a purr, and it vibrated across Peter's throat like a prayer. And then Wade's body was pressing into his, hot and hard, contact like fire from thigh to shoulder, and his teeth were nipping at the edge of his jaw, sharp and demanding. And Peter melted, giving in with a soft whimper as Wade finally found his mouth and pillaged it thoroughly with his clever tongue.

It always happened this way.

Peter didn't necessarily _want_ to break public indecency laws, especially not when he was out as Spider-Man, but he had no will power when it came to Wade. He would try to be good, but he and Wade always ended up making out in dark alleyways like sex-starved teenagers anyway. Making out and sometimes… Other things. And he pretended to be reluctant, but Wade knew how much he wanted it. Needed it. No matter how much Peter might protest, he never used the color codes, and their safe word never passed his lips.

They hadn't been back to Wade's apartment since that night they almost… And although Wade now felt free to shove his hand down the back of Peter's pants and slip a finger between the tight globes of his ass to tease at his entrance (which always drove Peter crazy and made him come embarrassingly quickly), they hadn't gone any further than that. And Peter knew that was good, no matter how much he ached for Wade. When they were together. Apart. All the time.

It was like an insatiable hunger. A fire that never went out, only flared brighter and hotter whenever Wade touched him, until it consumed Peter from the inside out. It was what turned him into a moaning, begging mess, Wade's name falling obscenely from his lips as the mercenary sought the seam in his suit and worked one gloved hand between them, slipping into Peter's pants to wrap his fingers around the base of his dick.

"Fuck… Yes, yes Wade…" Peter's head fell back against the bricks with a soft thud, one hand pulling at Wade's arm while the other grasped onto a katana strap, holding on for dear life. "Please." He tried to keep his words as quiet as possible, his breath fanning out into the warm air in soft panting bursts. Wade's lips were on his throat again, sucking marks into his pale, unblemished skin, and his hard length was pressing firmly against Peter's hip.

"Love it when you ask so nicely, Baby Boy…" Wade murmured against his neck, leather-covered fingers stroking carefully but quickly up Peter's shaft. "When you beg for me." Peter bit down on his lower lip, muffling an uncontrollable moan as Wade set up an almost harsh pace. It was quick and rough and dirty, and Peter could feel himself unravelling with each tug of the mercenary's hand.

It didn't take long. Wade knew just how to twist his wrist, just where to use his lips, his teeth, and one well timed bite to the juncture of Peter's neck and shoulder had the boy spilling over his knuckles with a short whimper. He slowed down quickly, taking his cue from Peter's shuddering body as the friction of his glove became overstimulating. He removed his hand with a soft hum of approval and lifted his fingers to his mouth, eye patches meeting Peter's as he slowly, lewdly licked off a bit of the sticky substance that stained the leather.

Peter groaned as an aftershock of arousal shot through his stomach, shoving at Wade's shoulder until the man leaned back far enough to let him off the wall. He immediately sank to his knees, leaving Wade to brace himself against the side of the building, towering over him as Peter's deft fingers sought out the zipper on his pants. He'd gotten much better at locating the opening now, and he knew just where to slip under the thick leather belt to find the little tab of metal he had grown to crave.

"Oh, fuck…" Wade moaned, suddenly sounding breathless and wrecked as Peter unzipped his pants and slid one hand inside, fingers curling around the thick, hard length of Wade's cock. Peter pulled it out, careful not to let any sensitive skin catch on the zipper, and took a deep breath as warm desire trickled through his veins like honey. He'd sucked Wade's dick a few times since the night in his apartment, and it was an activity he'd quickly grown to enjoy. Dream of, even. Wade clearly got off on Peter touching him in any way, but he absolutely _fell apart_ when the hero used his mouth.

Peter looked up the long planes of Wade's body to watch his mouth fall open as he slowly, teasingly circled the head of Wade's dick with his tongue. He was still trying things out, methodically testing which moves sent shudders down Wade's spine, which made him moan and pant like an animal, and which made him whimper, biting down on his soft bottom lip to keep the broken sounds inside while his whole body shook. He held the base of Wade's length steady with one hand and prodded his hole gently with the tip of his tongue, watching the mercenary grit his teeth around a moan, his hands curling into fists against the wall. "Fuck, Spidey… You- Oh, god…"

Peter loved it when Wade could no longer form coherent sentences. He slid his free hand up above the mercenary's belt, fingers splaying over the hard surface of his abs as he wrapped his lips around the head of Wade's cock. He sucked lightly, hollowing his cheeks as he slid further down, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Wade's length gliding heavy and warm across his tongue. Wade let out a low, breathy whine as his hips twitched forward, and Peter shivered in pleasure, heat settling in his stomach with a deep satisfaction.

He loved that he could make Wade feel this way. He craved it. Needed it. It made him feel… important, and cared for. Wanted. He felt closest to Wade in moments like these, felt like it was totally fine that Wade didn't want Peter, because Spider-Man could give him _this_. Wade needed Spider-Man.

Spider-Man pulled back slightly and sunk down again, taking more of Wade into his mouth. He set up a gentle rhythm, swiping his tongue across Wade's cockhead on each stroke to taste the rich flavor that leaked from his tip. He tried to work his way down as far as he could without choking himself (he'd held off on that since the first time he'd tried and made himself gag on Wade's dick), but his jaw was beginning to protest and he'd barely taken more than half of Wade's length.

Wade was panting heavily, small grunts of pleasure falling from his parted lips each time Peter took him down, and his hips jerked instinctively forward with each bob of the hero's head. Deciding to use a trick he'd learned last time, Peter used the hand that was wrapped around Wade's base to stroke up over the length he couldn't reach with his tongue, pumping Wade in time with the movements of his mouth. The effect was instantaneous, Wade's hips thrusting forward into his hand as the mercenary shuddered, a long moan breaking free from his throat. "Oh shit fuck _yes_ Baby Boy oh my god…"

Peter hummed around Wade's cock, bobbing his head and stroking his hand more enthusiastically as he picked up the pace. He could tell Wade was close, and when he accidentally scraped his teeth up the underside of the mercenary's length, Wade gasped and tensed up, one hand flying down to tug urgently at the back of Peter's mask.

Peter made a split-second decision, sinking his mouth down on Wade's dick instead of pulling off. He hadn't done this before, but he was curious. Not to mention he kind of wanted to avoid a mess since he'd already had to wash his suit four times this week. Wade turned his head to muffle a broken cry against his arm, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as his cock pulsed against Peter's tongue. A moment later, hot liquid was spilling into Peter's mouth, trickling down the edges of his throat. He whimpered at the sensation, swallowing the thick substance as the taste overwhelmed his senses, salty and earthy.

When Wade was finished, Peter carefully slid his mouth off, taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart, and wiped the back of one hand across his spit-slick lips. "Holy shit." Wade murmured above him, stroking his hand down the back of Peter's head. "That was… Fuck." He pushed off the wall, still looking a little shaky, and tucked himself back into his pants. "Are you, um, okay?"

Peter nodded as he stood up, swallowing against the slightly unpleasant feeling of cum coating his throat, like he couldn't get it all down. It felt dirty. Like Wade had marked him. Claimed him. And the thought of Wade being _inside_ him like that had lust and pleasure twisting in his gut again. He tangled his fingers in Wade's katana straps and leaned in to murmur against his neck. "My knees are kind of sore now…"

Wade groaned, low and filthy. "Fuck." His hands landed on Peter's hips and he pushed the boy into the wall again, crowding up against him as he lowered his head to capture the hero's mouth in a slow, lascivious kiss. Peter whimpered into it, his whole body melting against Wade's. "Oh, Baby Boy…" Wade broke off with a gentle nip to Peter's bottom lip, trailing kisses down his neck until he could trace his tongue over the spot he'd bitten earlier. "Wish I could just take you home and fuck you senseless."

Peter gasped, a burst of hot arousal washing over his whole body as his hips pushed forward, pressing his renewed hard-on against Wade's thigh. "Mm…" Wade hummed against his shoulder, fingers squeezing tighter at his hips for a moment. "Fuck yeah, I do." But then he was pulling away slightly, raising one hand to swipe his thumb across Peter's jaw. "It's getting late." He planted a soft kiss on Peter's cheek. "You got school tomorrow, don't you?"

Peter swallowed, disappointment sinking into his limbs as he pushed back his arousal. "Yeah." He admitted, slowly unwrapping his fingers from around Wade's straps and sliding his hands down to the mercenary's waist instead. "I guess we should, uh, call it a night."

Wade nodded, stepping back out of their little alcove to let Spidey off the wall. Peter resisted the urge to shiver as the older man's body heat was taken away, the only slightly cooler night air rushing in to take his place. He took a deep breath, stepping out beside the mercenary and glancing around the empty alleyway, and tried to ignore the vaguely restless, lost feeling that was settling in his chest again.

He and Wade had been okay, and Peter told himself that nothing had really changed. They still patrolled, joked around, fucked around, Wade was still sweet and considerate and worshiped the ground Spidey walked on. Even if Peter was distracted sometimes and Wade was being stupidly reckless, nothing was really different. But it felt like… Like they were in a holding pattern. Waiting for something. But Peter didn't know what and he didn't know how to fix it. If it even needed fixing.

He shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind and grabbed onto the edge of Wade's collar, pulling him down for a quick, light kiss. "Goodnight, then." He mumbled against Wade's mouth before pulling away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night, Spidey." Wade replied, giving him a parting pat on the ass as Peter rolled down his mask and shot a web towards the top of the building they'd just used as cover for messing around.

Peter swung away, feeling like he could breathe better with the city air rushing past him, filling his ears and cushioning his body. He'd been enjoying swinging home lately. It was the only time he could empty his head and just…

Not think.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter had trouble staying awake on the subway ride to school the next morning, eyelids heavy and limbs aching from another night of tossing and turning. He found his thoughts wandering to Wade, as they were prone to do more often than not these days. He wondered how Wade was. How _Wade_ was, because he felt like he hadn't seen him in two weeks. He couldn't keep himself from worrying, hoping that he was alright. That he wasn't… Upset about Peter at all.

And why would he be? It had become increasingly clear since that night that he didn't really care about silly little Peter Parker. Sure, maybe they'd been friends. But not more than that. Not even close friends. And as much as that realization felt like a jagged shard of ice slicing into Peter's heart, he knew that it was true. Despite how blind he could be to certain things, Peter was usually a pretty smart kid. It hadn't taken much for him to piece it together from what Wade told Spider-Man; he had used Peter to hack into Oscorp's system. He probably used a flash drive; it wouldn't have been hard to slip it into the back of Peter's computer when he wasn't looking.

Peter wasn't mad. Wade hadn't hurt anyone, and he'd been nothing but kind to Peter. He even came over for dinner after that, with no obligation and nothing to gain, and was more polite to Aunt May than Peter had ever thought he could be. He treasured those times they had together… Even if Wade had an ulterior motive. Even if he had never really liked Peter.

He tipped his head over to rest his forehead against the grimy train window, watching the tunnel lights flash by with lidded eyes. He shivered slightly and crossed his arms, holding his backpack to his chest, jacket sleeves pulled down over his hands. It felt like he had a black hole in his stomach, sucking the warmth out of him. He missed Wade. And it hurt.

But he had bigger things to worry about, so he shoved that aching hole deep inside and buried it beneath his other problems, focusing on something else. Like Harry.

Peter felt responsible for his friend. _Was_ responsible for him, for the pain he was in and the heavy burden that now lay on his young shoulders. He was devoted to making it better, however he could, because he owed that to Harry. He felt indebted to him, ever since the day after his father died, when he held Harry while he cried in bed the entire day, only falling asleep when his sobs had exhausted him. It broke Peter's heart to see him like that, so shattered. More than killing Norman, more than taking a man's life from the world, Peter could never forgive himself for doing that to Harry.

Harry had not been doing well since then. He didn't come to school for more than a week, and Peter knew that he hadn't left his penthouse until three days after it happened. Peter couldn't blame him. Not only had he lost his father, who was his only family no matter how strained their relationship had been, but he was now responsible for an entire multi-billion-dollar company. And he was only eighteen.

All the bad press surrounding the circumstances of Norman's death was making everything even worse. The public may fear Spider-Man now, but they hated Norman Osborn. He was being demonized as a super-villain, a crazed terrorist who used his wealth and position to gain powers beyond his natural ability. There was a lot of speculation as to the _why_ of it all, and many news outlets had tried to launch investigations into Oscorp, but none had yet succeeded in turning up any real information. Harry was now forced to work with the board on the vicious legal battle surrounding how much access would be granted to the police and the media. Countless injunctions had stalled any searches of Oscorp or Osborn property, but it was only a matter of time before the police would be digging into the whole situation.

It was a lot for a kid who hadn't even finished high school to handle. Peter was trying his best to help, going over to Harry's almost every day after school and offering himself however he could be useful, but all he could really be for Harry was a shoulder to cry on. It wasn't enough. Harry was fraying around the edges, falling apart a little more each day, and Peter felt entirely too helpless as he watched it happen.

He went through his first few classes in a fog. His grades were slipping, his performance suffering, and if he wasn't careful then this would be his first semester ever graduating with less than straight A's. He could hardly make himself care. He was relieved to see Harry in the hallway outside the cafeteria at lunch, not sure if he would be in school that day. (Harry was usually too busy to text Peter back these days, but he didn't mind.)

"Hey." He greeted the older boy quietly, laying his hand on Harry's arm as he stopped beside him. Harry turned to face him, tucking his phone back into his pocket, and Peter's breath caught in his throat. There were dark circles under the senior's eyes, his hair was limp and ragged, and his cheekbones stood out even more than usual, making Peter worry that he wasn't eating. Even his sky-blue eyes were darker, greyer, like they'd been taken over by clouds.

"Hey." Harry muttered back, gaze darting around the crowded hallway like he was on edge, anxious. "Could we skip out on lunch?"

Peter nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course." MJ would wonder where they were, but Peter could explain later. She'd understand. She'd been helpful too, coming over to Harry's place a couple of times with Peter. Harry seemed to appreciate the support, but it was fairly clear that he didn't really want to be around anyone but Peter, sticking to his side and barely speaking to anyone else. MJ had been really nice about it, quietly fading into the background when it seemed like she wasn't needed. She was a great friend.

"C'mon." Harry took hold of Peter's hand, leading him towards the side doors. His fingers were cold against Peter's skin, his grip tight. They made their way outside into the warmer air. It was the beginning of May and the weather was beautiful, not a cloud in sight as the sun streamed down on the Midtown campus.

Harry took them to his car, unlocking it as they approached, and opened the back door. He stepped aside to let Peter slide in before he followed, closing the door and collapsing against Peter with a heavy sigh. His forehead fell to the younger boy's shoulder, his hands gripping lightly at Peter's t-shirt. It was hot inside the car, but Harry's skin felt like ice.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked gently as he wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

Harry made a small, noncommittal sound that was neither a positive nor a negative response. They sat like that for a minute, neither of them speaking again until Harry sat up, breaking Peter's hold on him to rub tiredly at his eyes. "Wish I didn't have to come to school." He muttered. "More important shit to take care of."

Peter nodded sympathetically. "At least you're almost done. You just have to finish all your credits. Want me to come over today and help with your homework?" He knew Harry wouldn't take offense; Peter had always been the nerd beside Harry's rich playboy persona.

Harry just hummed vaguely, staring blankly out the front windshield, eyes hazy and far away. Peter waited a few seconds before he lay one hand on Harry's knee, trying to pull his attention back from wherever it had wondered off to. He startled slightly, gaze flickering back to Peter's face before he sighed, an exasperated huff of air passing through his lips.

"It's just so…" He choked off the words, looking ahead again. His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. "So fucking unfair." Peter blinked in surprise at the anger in his voice, the livid fury that had entered his eyes.

"What is?" He asked quietly. He knew this was all unfair, but he wanted to know exactly what Harry was talking about.

Harry made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, throwing his head back to shake the hair off his forehead. "Spider-Man." He spat the name like it was poison, and Peter froze, his heart lurching in his chest.

"How come he's not getting punished for what he did?" Harry asked, voice almost shaking with the force of his rage. "Someone needs to demand justice. Unmask him and throw him in jail." His eyes shone with a manic glare as his mouth twisted into an ugly, bitter smile. "See how he likes being locked up with all those criminals he put away."

A chill ran down Peter's spine and he had to suppress a shiver, caught off guard by the undeniable warning. He stared, wide-eyed and shocked, his pulse thrumming in his ears as he tried to process what he was hearing. He swallowed hard, tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't find the words.

The tension seemed to drain out of Harry's body all at once, his chin tipping forward and eyes falling shut as his expression melted into a sad exhaustion. "It's just… Not fair."

Peter took a shaky breath, reminding himself that his friend was really hurting right now. And he wasn't wrong. Spider-Man had made a mistake, and his actions should have consequences. "I know." He whispered, taking Harry's hands in his. "I'm so sorry."

"I just… Why did he have to do that?" Harry sounded helpless, broken. "Why did he have to unmask him for the whole fucking world to see?" Peter frowned, unaware that this was what had been bothering Harry the most. "He made my father a joke." He pulled his hands from Peter's grip and ran thin fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. "Now his memory, his _legacy_ is shit. All he built… All of it, blown to shit by this one stupid mistake."

Peter pressed his lips together, knowing now was not the right time to argue that what Norman did was a lot more than a stupid mistake.

Harry gazed out the window again, the light faded from his eyes, leaving them dull and blank. "I hate him." He stated simply, unaware that those words caused a sharp, cold pain beneath Peters ribs.

They sat in silence for a long minute, each one lost in his own thoughts and misery. But Peter didn't deserve to wallow; he needed to do something for Harry. Try to distract him, at least. So he took a deep breath and nudged Harry's knee with his own. "Hey." He waited for Harry to look at him, but it didn't happen. "Um, you know graduation prep is starting. Have you picked up your robes yet?"

Harry shrugged, clearly distracted.

Peter ran his tongue over his lips and tried to think of something else. "You decided on Columbia, right? Will the board be able to appoint a temporary CEO while you go to school?" They'd discussed the possibility briefly a couple of days ago, but Harry hadn't mentioned it since.

"Don't know." Harry murmured, hand drifting into his pocket to pull out his phone. He checked the time. "I think I'm gonna ditch the rest of the day and go to the bank. There's a lot of paperwork I need to deal with."

"Oh… Yeah, okay." Peter fought back a frown, knowing that Harry had more important things to do than sit through a few more classes. "Want me to come over later?"

Harry shook his head, not looking at Peter. "Don't know when I'll get home. Might be late."

Peter looked at him closely, worried by the detached tone in his voice. But he knew the last thing Harry needed right now was to be forced to talk, so he resigned himself to just saying, "Okay. Text me if you need anything, alright?"

Harry nodded. "Thanks." He reached for the door but paused, turning to finally meet Peter's eyes. "Really. Thanks, Petey." He leaned in and planted a soft, tender kiss on Peter's cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Peter smiled shakily, his stomach clenching. "Whenever you need me." He reiterated, reaching out to give Harry's hand a squeeze before the older boy was opening the back door and letting them out.

He stood in the sunlight, hands shoved into his pockets, and watched Harry peel out of his parking spot and drive away from the school.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter peered nervously around the Oscorp lobby as he made his way towards the elevators. He hadn't been here since Norman died, and part of him had expected to find the entire company shut down, although he knew that wasn't realistic. Everything seemed to be operating normally, as unsettling as that was. He'd been prepared to be turned away when he showed his ID at the door, unsure about the status of his internship since he hadn't come in for two weeks, but the security guard had simply nodded him inside.

So he made his way downstairs to his office, glancing surreptitiously at each camera he passed and feeling more like a criminal than an employee. Because today he wasn't coming here to work. He'd thought a lot about what Wade told him, and he knew that he needed to see it for himself. He needed to know exactly what Norman had been doing, and maybe then he'd know _why_. If he had no reason, if he really was just evil, then maybe… Maybe Peter would feel a little less guilty about what happened.

He slipped into his office, trying to look as normal as possible, and sat down at his desk to boot his computer up. There was only one camera in this room, but it faced the computer screen. Peter shifted his chair over, careful to get the angle right so his head would partially block the monitor, and started to hack into Oscorp's servers before he could lose his nerve. It took almost three minutes to get the security feeds up for this floor of the building, and he quickly set up a video loop, running the last two minutes over on repeat so no new footage would be recorded. He took a deep breath, pausing just long enough to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans.

"No going back now…" He muttered to himself. If he got caught, he wouldn't just lose this internship. He would be arrested and undoubtedly charged, unless Harry got him off (and Peter _really_ didn't want to make his friend deal with that, let alone explain why he'd been hacking Oscorp's system in the first place).

He swallowed back his nerves and set to work pulling up the secure files from the server that Norman Osborn used, figuring the CEO's personal computers would have all the information Peter was searching for. There were a _lot_ of files to sift through. Peter settled for skimming, waiting for his eye to catch on anything that seemed illegal, amoral, or otherwise evil. Five minutes in, he clicked on a folder titled "Excelsis."

He opened the first subfolder, "exp. 3-25," and found a list of video files. He clicked on the first one.

"Oh god." Peter's hand flew to cover his mouth, tears springing to his eyes as he watched. It was… gruesome. Maybe the worst thing he'd ever seen done to another person. He couldn't finish, and closed the window after a minute and a half. He felt sick.

"Oh my god." Wade was right. He'd been right all along. A person who could do _that_ to another human being didn't deserve Peter's pity. Or his mercy.

He backed out of the folder and started going through the other files that were part of "Excelsis," relieved to find no other videos in his cursory examination of what was there. He opened progress reports from the month of March, eyes skimming over formulas and numbers, notes dictated in the margins of chemical diagrams. Some of it went over his head, but he could follow a lot. He could tell when they finished developing this serum they were making, an official formula released on March 19th for replication. It appeared to heighten natural human abilities like strength, reflexes, speed and stamina, and intelligence. There were no notes on side effects.

Something was bothering Peter, itching at the edges of his mind. He squinted at the screen, looking more closely at the formula. Those numbers, they looked… Familiar.

Horror crept through his veins ahead of the realization, a slow sense of terrible foreboding causing the blood to drain from his face. "Oh…" No. No no no. This was… It was Peter's work. It was the solution he'd worked out weeks ago. It was…

He found himself bent over, head between his knees without knowing how he got there. He thought he might throw up, his breath coming heavy and uneven, vision blurry. It was his fault. It was all his fault. All of it.

He gasped for breath and clutched at the edges of the desk. "No." He couldn't… deal with that right now. He needed to finish. Finish and get the fuck out of here before he fell apart. He blinked the tears from his eyes, wiping impatiently at his cheeks with one sleeve before he started typing again.

He found a folder titled "GG" and opened it with gritted teeth. Sketches and blueprints, plans, all of it. The Goblin's suit and hover board (apparently called a Goblin Glider), his pumpkin bombs and bat-shaped throwing knives. It was all here. And a document tracking Norman Osborn's use of the serum; he had taken 10 milligrams every day and noted the effects. Peter read with increasing dismay as he tracked the rapid development of Norman's superhuman abilities. They seemed to get stronger every day, but after about a week and a half there were… Other changes. Norman reported feeling paranoid, on edge, his heart-rate accelerated constantly. He mentioned racing thoughts and mood disturbances. Then four days later any mention of side effects disappeared. He wrote instead about increasing strength and intelligence, almost ranting about his dominance over other humans, his rise to superiority. It read like the disorganized journal of a narcissistic sociopath.

Peter closed out the folder with a bitter taste in his mouth. Clearly, the serum had driven Norman mad. Even madder than he had been. Suddenly, a terrible thought occurred to Peter.

How much of this did Harry know?

None, Peter immediately answered himself. Harry wouldn't have allowed any of this to happen if he'd known. He would have tried to stop it. But still… He had to know for sure.

A few seconds of typing pulled up a list of computers that had ever accessed this information. Norman Osborn, many names that Peter recognized from the board of trusties, and dozens of computers in the research and development department. But not Harry Osborn. Of course, there were ways to access information without leaving a digital footprint, as Peter was doing now, but he seriously doubted that Harry would know any of those skills, let alone bother to use them. He breathed a sigh of relief, not having realized how nervous he'd been until his stomach unclenched from the tight knot it had been tangled in.

Peter felt like he'd seen enough. He was preparing to close out of all the files he'd accessed, skimming one more time through the folder names, when something caught his eye. "DP." He clicked on the video file, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and was suddenly watching what was clearly security footage timestamped just over two weeks ago.

His breath caught in his throat as he watched Wade, dressed in his Deadpool suit, slinking silently down a back staircase. He reached for the volume, desperate to have all the information he could, but there was no sound with the video. He watched closely as Wade stopped outside the locked doors to the research floor. He took something off his belt and held it up to the card reader, and a moment later the light blinked from red to green. He pulled open the door and went inside.

The camera view switched to follow Wade, and a small sound of distress climbed up Peter's throat as he watched the mercenary stand frozen outside a row of what were clearly cells, staring through the windows at the people inside.

Peter's hands were curled into fists on his thighs and he was leaning towards the screen, holding his breath as Wade ducked unnoticed into one of the labs. He stood there in the middle of the room, stock still for almost thirty seconds, every line of his body rigid with tension. Then a door on the opposite end of the lab swung open and two men in white lab coats walked in, holding clipboards and talking to each other. They froze at the sight of Deadpool, and for a long moment nobody moved.

Then Wade… Snapped. He moved faster than Peter would have thought possible, closing the distance between them in less than a second and before the scientists could react, before Peter could blink, two long, bright gashes stretched from their hips to shoulders. Wade swept past them, katanas in hand, and their bodies crumpled heavily to the ground, pools of blood quickly spreading around them.

Peter gaped, horrified, unable to look away. The camera view switched from room to room, following Deadpool's movements. Wade slaughtered them, one after another, with absolutely no hesitation. He was… viciously deadly. He moved through the whole floor, seeking them out and opening them up, every single one. It took hardly any time at all. All that death and it was over in… less than two minutes. There were dozens of bodies.

Then there were guards rushing in, in full tactical gear, and Peter watched as Wade sheathed one blood-soaked sword and drew a large pistol from his hip.

He reached out and closed the video file with a short whimper, finding his fingers numb. He couldn't… Watch that. He couldn't…

Wade did that. Wade… It was awful. It was as bad as… He killed them. Knowing, abstractly, that Wade killed people was one thing. But seeing it… Seeing _that_. Peter wasn't sure how to… He didn't know what to do with that.

It was unacceptable.

He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus, pulling himself back into now. And as he closed out of the files and backed out of the servers, restarting the camera feeds and logging out of his account, Peter's focus returned with a razor-sharp edge. Suddenly, he was furious.

He needed to see Wade.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was early to suit up, the sun still sitting low on the horizon, bathing the city in warm golden light, but Peter found himself swinging through Manhattan as Spider-Man around seven in the evening. He didn't even bother keeping an ear out for signs of crime. He was on a mission.

He checked every run-down apartment Wade had ever taken him to, peering in the windows and knocking on the glass, but every single one was dark and empty. He couldn't make himself check the nice building that was close to Oscorp, the one where… He figured Wade wouldn't be there anyway; it had seemed very unlived in, unlike all the others. He was sure Deadpool had other places in the city, probably many, so it wasn't surprising that he didn't have any luck tracking him down, even if it was disappointing.

The longer he searched, the more his anger grew, dark and bitter, choking him. Wade had lied to him. Lied by omission, at the very least. He'd lead Peter to believe that he hadn't been killing anymore. They'd never explicitly discussed it, but Peter had thought… Wade had acted like Spider-Man's rules were something he believed in. Something worth making an effort for. But then he turned around and slaughtered dozens of people in cold blood. Somehow, Peter thought that might be even worse than finding out that Wade was still taking mercenary jobs.

And hell, maybe he _was_ still taking jobs. Maybe he hadn't really changed at all. Maybe he was just putting up a front, playing an act, so he could keep seeing Spider-Man. And that left Peter with a sickening dilemma: If Wade was killing behind his back, could he continue whatever the two of them had going?

The sudden nauseous, dizzying ache in Peter's gut forced him to stumble to a stop on a rooftop, his throat closing up in a terrible desperate panic. No. No, he couldn't stop seeing Wade. Just the thought made him feel like he was dying.

But he was still mad, and he had every intention of giving Wade a piece of his mind when he managed to track him down. He was making a second round through all of the mercenary's known apartments when he finally did spot him, climbing out of a window in his Deadpool suit.

Peter swung himself down, landing aggressively on the edge of the fire escape with a soft metallic thud. "Deadpool." He managed, voice tight with barely restrained tension as he called for the mercenary's attention.

To his credit, Wade hardly looked surprised to see him there. He waved casually to the hero while he slid the window shut behind him. "Hello, my little arachnid friend! Fancy meeting you here. Isn't it a bit early for spiders to be out hunting?"

Peter ground his teeth together, trying to keep his cool against the roiling fury churning inside him. "We need to talk."

Wade stared at him for a long moment, masked expression torturously blank. "No, it doesn't." He muttered to himself before crossing his arms over his chest. "Is this a potential breakup song?" He was trying to keep his tone light, but Peter could hear the anxiety underneath. "Cause baby, I'm not livin' till I'm livin', livin' with you."

"What? No." Peter hopped off the railing onto the main platform and stalked past Wade to shove his window back open. "Let's talk inside."

Wade didn't move for several seconds, his body thrumming with apprehension. For one wild moment, Peter wondered if he was going to run away. But then the mercenary uncrossed his arms with a grunt and ducked to climb back through his window, muttering agitatedly the whole way. "What, fire escape talks aren't good enough for you anymore? I'm hurt, Spidey. I'm literally hurt."

Wade's social coping mechanisms were soothing Peter against his will. He was starting to feel like he could take deep breaths without wanting to punch something, but a part of him wanted to hold on to that righteous anger. What Deadpool did, what _Wade_ did, was wrong, and Peter couldn't just let him off the hook. And if he didn't blame Wade for killing those people, then… He'd have no one to blame but himself.

So he climbed gracefully inside and thought about what he'd seen in that video, letting the moral disgust crawl up his throat again. He followed Wade through a dark, cluttered bedroom and into the living room, which was also dark and messy. He stood by the couch while the mercenary made his way to the light switch and flipped it on, illuminating an alarming amount of trash, weaponry, and videogames. Wade then stationed himself in the middle of the room, arms crossing over his chest again and every muscle taught with readiness, like he was expecting a fight to break out at any moment. "Well?" He asked shortly.

Peter took a breath, not sure exactly how to start. "I know what you did at Oscorp." The words tumbled unbidden from his mouth, sharp and accusing. He watched Wade for some sort of reaction, but the man just stood there, blank and unmoving, and Peter's fury flared again. "I know what you did to them. All those people." Still, he said nothing. Peter strode forward, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You killed them, Wade." He was surprised by the color of betrayal in his own voice.

Wade's unflinching façade broke with a low growl. "Yeah, I fucking did." He leaned into Peter's space, menacing and dangerous. "What do you want me to do, apologize?" Peter's mouth fell open in shock. Wade turned away with a sound of disgust, stomping towards the kitchen to put some distance between them. "You don't know what they did, Spidey. You didn't see it."

"Yes, I did." He retorted, staring after Wade in disbelief. "But that's no excuse for such… Cruelty. You ended their lives. Cut them down in –"

"Cruelty?" Wade cut him off, whirling around to face him again, his voice chillingly sharp. "You think that was cruel? I was fucking _merciful_. No." He shook his head, his anger clearly mounting. "No, if I were going to be _cruel_ , if I had given them what they really deserved, they would have been begging me for death." He started to pace. "See how they liked being strapped down to those tables, experimented on, played with… Put them in the cells and keep them alive for days. Weeks. A new game every day oh yes… I'm sure they would've liked that."

Peter watched with growing concern, trying to cling to his outrage in the face of Wade's distress. The things he was saying were… Disturbing to imagine. "Wade, stop." He resisted the urge to physically halt the mercenary's anxious pacing. "That's not the point. You can't just kill without asking questions. Or, fuck, even knowing who it is you're killing. It's not right."

"Fuck right." Wade was livid. "You didn't _see_ what they were doing, Spidey."

"I did." He made his voice hard, demanding that Wade hear him.

Wade froze, turning his attention to Peter. There was a moment of tense silence. "How?"

Peter frowned, bitterness drowning in resigned sadness. "I snuck in and hacked their system, same as you did, I assume."

Wade's gaze didn't leave his face. "How did you get in?"

Oh. "I just… I just did." Peter sighed in frustration. "It doesn't matter. You _lied_ to me."

"Nope. Didn't lie. Just didn't tell you." He dropped his chin to his chest and hissed under his breath. "They are too different."

"Why didn't you?" Peter demanded.

Wade threw his hands into the air. "Because we didn't want _this_ to happen, obviously. Yeah, well it's too fucking late now, isn't it?" He abruptly turned and sunk down onto one arm of the couch, shoulders slumping as his whole body seemed to deflate. His voice was quieter, more pitiful when he spoke next. "Now you're going to kick me out of the city."

Peter stared, his anger draining away into confusion. "What?"

Wade took a small, shuddering breath, like he was trying to hold himself together. "You're going to make me leave, because I'm bad and I kill too many people."

Peter was stunned into silence for a moment. Then he let out the breath he'd been holding, tension draining from his muscles as he closed the distance between them and took one of Wade's gloved hands in his own. "No, I'm not. I'm not gonna kick you out."

The mercenary raised his head to look up at him, and Peter wished he could see Wade's eyes. "You mean… You're not leaving me?"

Peter felt like he might cry. "No, Wade. Of course not."

Before he knew what was happening, Peter found himself crushed to Wade's chest, strong arms wrapped around his back and the mercenary's face tucked into his shoulder. He couldn't help the flicker of a smile that crossed his lips as he wound his arms around Wade's neck. "I couldn't." He admitted quietly, and felt Wade's body shudder against his.

He allowed them to embrace for a few moments before pulling away slightly, trying to catch Wade's eye. "But I wish you wouldn't… Go on killing sprees, I guess."

Wade nodded slightly, gaze falling to the ground. "You want me to change." He stated dully.

"No." Peter shook his head. "I just want you to be…" He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Not me." Wade filled in, arms falling to his sides as he released Peter.

"No!" He took Wade's masked face in his hands and forced his gaze forward. "I l… Like you. Just the way you are, Wade. I want you to be _careful_ , that's what I was going to say."

Wade looked at him for a moment. "Okay." He mumbled, not sounding entirely convinced, but he did bring his hands back up to Peter's waist, his touch a comforting warmth even through the suits.

"Okay."

They got tacos before they patrolled that night, using their extra time to sit on top of an office building and watch the sunset. It was romantic as hell and they couldn't resist rolling around on the rooftop for a while even though emotions had run high that evening. No matter what, Peter felt like he couldn't keep his hands off Wade, and he was glad that the lack of control seemed to go both ways.

They caught a group of carjackers, stopped two muggings and intercepted a drug deal. Overall, it was a pretty good night for crime fighting. Peter decided to head back home before eleven, hoping he could manage a few hours of sleep after he did his homework.

He was halfway there, getting close to where he usually crossed the East River, when a sharp tingle of warning shot down his spine. He moved instinctually, pulling out of a swing with a sharp jerk and sticking to the side of a building as something large rushed through the air where he'd just been.

Peter craned his head to look behind him, searching for what the thing was and where it had gone, but the street was empty. A few pedestrians walked along the sidewalk, cars drove by, but there was nothing in the air. He frowned to himself and began to climb the wall, figuring he would have a better view from the roof. Before he could get far, his spidey sense prickled at the back of his neck. He moved on instinct again, flipping off the building and landing in a crouch on the pavement several stories below.

He hurried to look up, and his blood ran cold when he saw what was attacking him. _Who_ was attacking him.

The Green Goblin descended slowly on his goblin glider, his bulbous yellow eyes and gaping mouth pointed straight at Peter. And he couldn't breathe. Because this couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real.

Distantly, as if the volume had been turned down on the world, Peter could hear people screaming. Running away. So they must see him, other people could see him. Unless they were just that afraid of Spider-Man now.

He crouched, frozen, trying desperately to figure out _how_ this could be happening, but his mind wasn't working. His thoughts were fuzzy. Blank. Only panic cut through the haze, the staccato beating of his heart, the rush of blood in his ears. The Goblin drew almost level with the ground, not more than three yards away, and Peter stared with wide eyes, uncomprehending.

He was seeing a ghost.

The ghost drew closer, and it spoke. "Spider-Man." The same distorted, nightmare voice came from its mouth, and Peter shuffled backwards involuntarily, seeking to maintain the distance between them. "I've been looking for you."

Peter sucked in a ragged, desperate gasp of air, his head reeling. This wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But still, the Goblin drew closer.

"I have a message for you." He surged forward, a blur of green, and Peter let out an undignified squeak of fear as a fist closed around the front of his suit, dragging him up to his feet as that terrifying mask shoved close to his face. "You're going to pay for what you did." The rage in the Goblin's voice was clear even through the mechanic filter, but he didn't speak loudly. He leaned in until Peter thought that gaping mouth might touch him, consume him. "I thought of unmasking you for all the world to see. But no…" His words were petrifyingly soft. "I've come up with a better plan." His free hand landed on the back of Peter's neck, one thumb stroking slowly up his throat.

"I'm going to kill you."

Peter couldn't breathe. It wasn't real. It wasn't happening. Norman was dead. His head pounded and the edges of his vision went fuzzy, dark. He knew he should move, fight, but he couldn't. His muscles weren't working.

"Hey, police!" A shout from the street, breaking through the fog. "D-Drop that… Drop him right now!" The Goblin turned his head, looking towards the two cops who stood on the side of the road beside their police car, guns drawn. "Just back away."

The Goblin made a low, quiet sound, like a hiss, and turned back to Peter. "I'm coming for you." He promised, and let Peter go. He slumped to the ground, the impact jarring, and watched as the Green Goblin soared off into the night, disappearing within seconds. He was left wondering, for a moment, if it had even happened at all.

Peter had never passed out before. He came close once when he was twelve years old and had to have blood drawn at the doctor's office. He felt the same way now, light and dizzy and numb, like he wasn't fully in his body. He focused on the hard sidewalk beneath his hands and knees and tried to take deep breaths, clinging to consciousness.

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he could see one of the policemen approaching him, a hand extended. Peter jerked back to reality, forcing his body to move again as he shot a web and swung away. He needed to get as far from there as he could, as fast as possible. He went in a random direction, not caring where he ended up as long as it was _away_.

He checked constantly to see if he was being followed, paranoia buzzing across his skin, but he saw no one and his spidey sense was tauntingly silent. He wasn't sure how much time passed before he felt safe enough to stop on a rooftop, his heart still pounding and his thoughts racing, going nowhere fast. He had enough presence of mind to check himself all over for tracking devices before he made his way home.

He wanted to go to Wade's instead, craving the comfort and safety he could offer, but he was terrified. He was terrified that Wade would confirm the fear whispering at the back of his mind.

That Peter had imagined it all.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:  
These Few Presidents – WHY?  
Lyrics:  
Hit Me With Your Best Shot – Pat Benatar  
Bad Boys (Theme from Cops) – Inner Circle  
Potential Breakup Song – Aly & AJ

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hello my lovely readers! I wanted to let you all know that I may not continue to post on this website. I have continued my works on my AO3 account, and you are more than welcome (and encouraged, in fact) to read the subsequent chapters there! Just head on over to Archive of Our Own and search my name, SordidDetailsFollowing, or the title of this work, I Think I Might've Inhaled You. And please, enjoy.

xoxo Sordid


End file.
